


What's Inside

by Mistressaq



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, Waitress - Bareilles/Nelson
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, More tags to be added, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attacks, Pining, Songfic, Unplanned Pregnancy, and i let you know which chapters to skip, i swear its just the one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Waitress AU. Pearl is unhappily married to a jackass. She falls pregnant with his child and starts a journey of loss, love, and friendship. And pie. So much pie.





	1. What's Inside--The Negative

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics pulled straight from the musical are in **bold**

Kim and Trixie had watched Pearl suffer through rush after rush for over a week, casting glances at one another across the diner as their coworker and friend gagged from just the smell of onion on a sandwich. They worked from six to four and the poor girl had abandoned breakfast rushes for her difficulty breathing around cooked eggs and the vinegar in ketchup. It was Kim who first pointed out Pearl’s tender stomach. Trixie hadn’t wanted to think anything of it — people got sick, it was whatever. But as the days pressed themselves into weeks, Trixie felt a weight in her gut everytime Pearl dashed to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. 

Yesterday when she and Kim had closed together, the woman had flipped through the calendar, making Trixie watch her search for Pearl’s period indicators. Each woman kept track on the same calendar, so when Trixie started crying because a group of military vets walked through the door or Kim screamed at her husband Davis more than usual, they knew how to tiptoe around their hormones. Trixie used blue frowny face stickers, kim scratched red pen into corners of days, and for the past two months, Pearl’s pink teardrops were missing. 

“Maybe she just forgot to track?” Trixie scratched the back of her neck. 

Kim just looked at her. Trixie relented, and together they went to the only pharmacy in the whole town and picked up a $11 home pregnancy test. 

“You ever had a pregnancy scare, Kimmy?” asked Trixie as she pulled her seatbelt across her chest. Her own answer to the question would have been an eyeroll. Everyone in town seemed to know Trixie was still a hopeless virgin. The out-of-towners sensed her awkwardness and hopeless insecurity, looking straight through her in favor of her coworkers. Kim, exotic for a small town; Pearl, who everyone knew in high school. She’d married the head quarterback, who, of course, peaked at age 17. Kim popped the clutch and revved the engine of her husband’s standard. Trixie had never once driven a standard, and hoped never to have to. “Davis has eight siblings, Trix, I’m on the pill and I make him wear a rubber every time.” 

Trixie nodded fervently. “That’s really good -- if you never want kids, double up.” 

“Yeah, but you can bet Pearl’s beau demands it bareback,” Kim said. “And our insurance from the diner doesn’t cover contraceptives.” 

“Damn politicians,” Trixie grunted.  
… 

**My whole life is in here**  
**In this kitchen baking**

Pearl flitted to and fro in the kitchen, breathing deep. This was a kind of thinking she needed badly. Sugar, butter, flour. Without fail, every time, no matter what was to come, she always started with the same crust her mother had taught her. And then it's down with the recipe, And bake from the heart. 

She heard the distant ring of the front door when Trixie and Kim came in. Five-fourty, just like clockwork. Pearl shut the oven door with a metallic clang and set her timer. Kim’s husband Davis (The ‘Dave’ of the diner’s name) growled at the women for their showing up fifteen minutes to opening when there was much to do to get ready. His skinny frame left barely a shadow falling through the window into the kitchen as Pearl dusted flour off her hands onto her apron. 

“Mornin’, Pearl,” chimed the girls. 

Pearl went to greet them and hand each their own cup of coffee, just the way they liked it. Trixie took a generous slurp of hers, a heavy cream moustache clinging to her upper lip when she pulled the mug away. She smiled and reached for Pearl’s hand, linking their fingers together like lovesick teens. The girl always brought a smile to Pearl’s lips, no matter what was going on inside. Inside. 

Pearl pulled her hand away and fixed her eyes on a stubborn stain in one of the ceiling tiles. She cleared her throat. “Kim, how’s the coffee?” 

“Strong enough to chew,” came the woman’s voice from their break room (which was really a closet with lockers in). “Just like I like it.” 

“Pearl!” called Davis from the chalkboard. “What’s the special pie today?” 

“Deep shit, blueberry bacon!” she called back without thinking. 

“Deep shit?” questioned Bob the maintenance guy. 

Pearl slapped her forehead. “Deep dish! Sorry, Dave.” 

Her boss shook his head. “C’mon, wake up Pearl.” 

“You need a cup of Joe?” asked Trixie from where she had started percolating a fresh pot for opening. 

She really wanted to. Better safe than sorry, though. “Aw, thanks, Trix.” Pearl shook her head. Her coworker shot her a confused look and she tried to rustle up an excuse. There were lots of reasons people went off caffeine, right? “Ah, I’m on this new diet.” Not technically a lie. 

Trixie nodded and returned to her work, unsuspicious. 

Pearl sighed and rested her back against the wall, just for a moment taking in the quiet before the clamor started. 

“What’re you doin’ lollygagging, kid?” 

Pearl jumped into action, choosing to help Kim pull chairs off tables while Trixie set up the register. The aluminum was chipped and the vinyl cracked. The floors squeaked and clacked with loose tiles. But damn if the napkin dispensers didn’t sparkle and damn if you couldn’t see your reflection in the windows come opening. 

**I don't know what I wish I had,**  
**But there's no time now,  
** **For thinking things like that.  
**I've got too much to do, too much to do.****

********** **

“Six o’clock, on the dot!” called Davis. 

Pearl slid over to the front door, where a half dozen late night truckers and early birds were milling about waiting. The click of the lock opening prompted Pearl to plaster on her service face. 

She didn’t really think it was fake anymore. 

Pearl swung the door open, the chime in the corner sounding loudly, ushering in the first batch of the day. 

**All these same things**  
**We're always  
** **Opening up  
**Letting the day in****

********** **

Pearl handed the empty coffee pitcher off to Kim on her way back to the kitchen. The sound of a fresh pot finishing percolating in the kitchen buzzed over the already growing din of hungry patrons. Pearl danced over to the window, where she held out her hand for Trixie to pass her the fresh pot. Grabbing a few mugs from behind the counter with her free fingers, Pearl made her way to the bar and slotted three mugs in front of three grizzly truckers. Her smile rested serenely on her lips out of pure habit. “Coffee, boys?” She got a few nods and two forced smiles in response and went to filling their mugs. “Sweeteners in the tins.” 

**Looking around**  
**Seeing the same things  
** **Everyday brings  
**Hello, how ya been?  
**Thank you, come again!  
**Some things never change********

********** **

********** **

Trixie spun the order wheel looking for an empty space to slot her tickets. Davis preferred her handwriting, even though it was girly, her lines swooping into curls at the ends for no reason. He’d once said she should just write all the tickets after reading Kim’s chicken scratch. She’d had coffee and a good night’s sleep, and Trixie didn’t have to pretend -- it was rare that she struggled to keep smiling. The world was wide and complicated, untrustworthy, scary, but no matter what happened out there, Trixie had a job that paid her rent, friends she could talk to, and health insurance in case something awful happened. And no matter what, every day was essentially the same, people want food and drink, she brings what they want, they leave, others come, rinse and repeat. The coffee was flowing, the prices stayed low, the flow of diner traffic could be predicted based on constants dating back to the 1950’s. 

**Everything in its place and time**  
**And I like the way  
**Most of the days look exactly the same****

********

********

Kim swiped a wet rag over aluminum tabletop, buffing at a grease stain that could have predated the diner itself. Her reflection in the window picked at her mind, her wide profile nothing like it once was. She felt a prod at her thigh and snapped upright. A middle-aged patron looked up at her expectantly. “Could we have some silverware?” 

Kim threw down her rag and went to stomp to the counter when the man’s wife called after her “Please and thank you!” 

Kim’s shoulders relaxed with just the power of manners. When she returned with napkin-wrapped utensils, the man was blushing and his wife looked superior. “I was just reminding my husband of basic decency,” she said. “And how when he met me I was working at Denny’s.” 

Kim smiled genuinely. It was great to see a wife calling out a disrespectful husband. She felt a kindred spirit in the woman and extended a hand. “I don’t know if I told you this yet, but my name’s Kim.” 

The wife shook her hand kindly, not limp-wristed or domineering. “Cheryl. Nice to meet you.” 

**I wouldn't call this place a happy end**  
**But I been round the block and just came back again  
**A small town like ours ain't much  
**But sometimes home is where your ass ends up******

********** **

********** **

Kim grabbed her notepad. “Has anyone gotten your drink order or--” 

“Yes,” Cheryl said. “That one over there.” She pointed to Pearl just in time to see the girl turn positively green when her customer opened his breakfast sandwich with extra onion. “Oh dear,” said Cheryl as they watched the waitress dart to the bathroom. “Is she--” 

Kim was already in motion, Trixie falling into step behind her. 

Seeing all three members of his waitstaff bolt into the ladies room, Davis called out after them. “Where d’you think you’re goin’?” 

“To the beach!” yelled Kim. “Pack us a lunch!” 

The door swung shut behind Kim and Trixie as they watched Pearl with her face under the ice cold faucet. 

“Right,” said Kim, pulling a key from her apron and sticking it into the cabinet below the sink where they kept sanitary towels and toilet paper. “Pearlie, time to pee on a stick.” She pulled out the box she and Trixie had purchased yesterday. 

Still pale and with her eyes half lidded, Pearl leaned against the sink. “I don’t wanna know.” 

Kim put a firm hand on Pearl’s shoulder and spoke to her reflection. “Come on, honey, you’ve waited long enough.” 

“Get to it and do it,” she and Trixie said at the same time. 

“I’ve got to get back to my tables,” Pearl said shakily. 

Trixie blocked her way to the door and Kim breathed down Pearl’s back in the cramped bathroom. She could smell Davis’ cologne under all the diner scent on Kim. 

Trixie took the box from Kim and pulled the test stick out. “I hope you drank enough this morning.” 

Pearl’s lip quivered. She felt so trapped between the two of them. 

Kim ran her hands through Pearl’s ponytail comfortingly. “Come on, honey, it’s better to know. We’ll be right here with you so.” 

“It’s no or it’s yes,” said Trixie gently. She held Pearl’s hand like she had this morning. “But either way you’ve gotta take the test.” 

Kim threw open the door to the single stall door. “A squat and a squeeze, a prayer and a please, it’s nothing.” 

Trixie kept her hands on Pearl’s gentle shoulders as she guided her into the stall. “A stick and a line.” 

Pearl grabbed the handle -- she wasn’t going to be having Trixie in the stall with her, this was embarrassing as is. “Just one of ‘em if I’m lucky,” she said, looking down at the stick that would decide her fate. She bolted the lock and pulled up her dress. 

“A pot and a piss,” said Kim and Trixie. “Here we go, sis.” 

There was silence for a few beats until Pearl whined, “I can’t go if you’re just waiting.” 

Kim turned on the tap and tossed Trixie the wadded-up instructions from the box. “Trix, read the instructions.” 

Trixie’s mouth quirked to one side. “Se puede saber la duración--” 

“English, please, Trixie.” 

Trixie chuckled nervously. “Oh. ‘Do not insert the test stick into your vagina’.” 

“Wow,” said Kim sarcastically. Sound started coming from the stall. “Thank you Trixie.” 

Pearl held the stick between her legs. “How'd I ever get myself in this mess? One drunk night in that stupid red dress.” 

Trixie perked up. “Aww, I love that red dress! The way it sparkles, it looks like an ice skating outfit--” 

Kim slapped a hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Stay with us, Trix.” 

There was a flush and Pearl came out of the stall, stick in hand. Kim set a timer for seven minutes. While Pearl washed her hands Trixie rubbed her arm and tried to cheer her up. “Maybe his machinery is broken somehow? What if his boys don't swim? I mean, wow! Miraculous luck!” 

Kim nodded curtly. “Yeah, miraculous! To get away with an unprotected fu--” 

“Funny how one night can ruin your whole life,” said Pearl with a thousand yard stare. 

Kim and Trixie each grabbed one of Pearl’s arms. “Don't go there yet, we don't know what the test says.” 

Pearl shrugged them off and covered her eyes with her hands, sinking to her knees. “I'm already panicked!” 

“Just calm down, goddammit,” demanded Kim. 

Trixie held Pearl’s chin in her hand. “Maybe it’ll all be fine.” 

Pearl sighed. “Maybe there’ll be just one line.” 

“Come on, negative!” All prayed aloud. 

They had a good while to suffer in silence, so Trixie tried to get Pearl talking. She nudged her friend. “I thought you don't sleep with your husband much anymore?” Pearl rested her damp forehead on Trixie’s shoulder. “Well, he got me drunk. I do stupid things when I drink, like sleep with my husband.” 

Kim chuckled. “Honey, we've all made that mistake.” 

Pearl started shaking. Trixie rubbed between her shoulder blades. “Maybe we should try to _The Secret_ this, y’know? Visualize what you want, and make it true. Focus on the negative.” 

Kim dabbed at Pearl’s face with a wadded up paper towel. “This will all be alright.” 

Trixie made Pearl take a deep breath with her: all the way in, hold, all the way out. “It was only one night.” Pearl blinked dampness into the corner of her eyes. “Someone, send me a sign.” The three waitresses joined hands and imagined it, speaking the words into being. “One line. One line.” 

The timer rang. Trixie and Kim looked at each other. “That means the test is ready. This is it.” 

Pearl felt her heart in her ears, her knees were rubbery as she tried to stand. She could half feel bile rising in her throat, and dared not open her mouth. She closed her eyes and braced herself on the corners of the sink. Taking herself through more of those breathing exercises, she didn’t open them again until she felt her feet on the ground again. Pearl counted to three and looked down. 

“Shit.”


	2. What Baking Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do that baby a favor and drop his sorry ass”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics in **bold**

Pearl stared at her reflection in the cruddy bathroom mirror. Tried to stare so hard the woman looking back at her would change into someone else, a new face to hide behind. 

Someone who this was not happening to. 

“Pearl?” Trixie’s voice was small. “Are you all right?” 

Pearl held up a hand, silencing her. “Shh, I’m inventing a new pie in my head.” 

Kim pursed her lips and nodded. “Of course you are, honey.” 

“W-what’s it called?” Trixie tried. 

There were a few things Pearl knew for certain. One, how to make a simple pie crust by heart that flakes on the tongue but holds on the tray. Two, God is dead. Pearl balled her hands into fists. Three, “I’m calling it ‘I don’t want Earl’s baby’ pie.” 

Trixie swallowed hard. “I don’t think we can put that on the menu?” 

“This isn’t the kind of thing you can just tuck into a pie, Pearl!” snapped Kim. 

“Pledge the sorority later!” Davis’ voice blasted through the tension in the air. 

Her world may be crumbling around her in this dingy bathroom, but outside, the diner was without its waitstaff. Pearl threw a towel over her shoulder and pushed her chin up. Kim and Trixie followed close behind her, prepared to catch her should she faint like a seventeenth century maiden. Pearl and Trixie rushed to catch up with work, carrying on as if nothing had happened. Davis grabbed Kim by the shoulder and breathed down her neck. “You’re supposed to keep those girls in line.” 

Kim shrugged him off, grabbing a tray from the window and a fresh pot of coffee. 

Not appreciating being ignored, Davis called across the diner. “You know you’re really pressing my buttons today!” 

Kim didn’t give Davis the dignity of turning to face him when she yelled above the din, “WHICH ONE’S MUTE?!” 

There was a smattering of applause before all attention died back down to normal. The girls flitted this way and that, filling cups, pulling plates and scratching down orders. Just as it was yesterday, as it would be tomorrow. 

Until one very tall and dark man came crashing through the door. “What’s a man gotta do to get some pie around here?” he yelled so loud the diner stopped to look at him. 

Pearl deflated. Not now, this is so not what I need right now. 

Trixie quickly cleared a few dirty plates from a four-seater and pointed Pearl’s husband Earl into it. She tried to swerve her hips out of the way quick enough, but Earl’s arms were two thirds her height and his customary slap came right down on her ass. 

Trixie raced toward the counter, flushing beet red. Kim offered her arms to the girl. Stealing a quick hug, Trixie was able to calm herself down enough to watch what happened between Pearl and Earl. Kim slid her a row of dirty coffee mugs to be cleaned out, the kind of menial work Trixie found therapeutic. Kim slammed down plates much harder than usual, Earl’s mere presence setting her crooked teeth on edge. 

“Earl,” Pearl leaned against the booth opposite her husband, not wanting to sit down. She didn’t want to look at him right now, but if she ignored him, he’d know something was wrong and when she got home, there’d be hell to pay. She plastered that smile on thick. “Sweetie-pie, what’re you doing here?” 

“I’m taking the rest of the day off.” His voice boomed like thunder. 

Pearl took his coat and tried to discern what the best tone to use was. How could she say it without pissing him off -- more than he was at least. “What about work?” 

Pearl flinched when her husband spat right on the table. “I don’t belong at that piece of shit job. Friggin foreman’s on my ass the minute I got there.” 

He spoke even louder, if that was possible, to make sure Pearl heard him when she went to fetch him a slice of pie. “He’s just jealous! I was voted life of the party in high school and he was most annoying laugh! Now I’m taking orders from this bozo.” 

Pearl gently set down the dish before Earl, tucking his napkin into his shirt. He caught her round the waist just as she was about to escape. “Hey where’s my kiss?” 

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” Pearl said, trying to get Earl to see Davis glaring at her from the sidelines. 

Earl’s grip on her tightened, reminding Pearl who was in charge here. “It can wait.” 

Pearl placed a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, just to get out of his hold. Earl patted her ass when he released her. “Hey how’s the tip situation?” 

Robotically, Pearl handed over the wad of cash from her pocket. She hadn’t counted it up, and it wasn’t even halfway through the day, but it wouldn’t be enough. 

He tucked the cash into his shirt pocket. “This it?” 

Pearl nodded, her lips pressed together in a firm line. 

“I’m thinking it’s not worth it, you working here,” said Earl. “I don’t like those women,” he pointed to Kim and Trixie at the counter. “The chink looks at me like I ate her dog.” 

Pearl stiffened. He knew working was one of the only things she had. One of the only things she cared about. Of course he wanted to take it from her, just like he took everything else. And his slur towards Kim led Pearl to fantasize having put Drain-O in his pie as he swallowed it down. 

“There any more of this?” asked Earl. 

“That’s the last piece.” Pearl smiled. “Went so fast I could hardly believe it.” 

“Well slow down there, Pearlie,” Earl chuckled. “I mean it’s good but let’s face it, you ain’t no Sara Lee.” 

Pearl imagined Earl choking, foaming at the mouth. “You used to say my pies were so good I could open up my own shop.” 

Earl snorted. “I was just trying to get laid.” 

Pearl’s eyes blazed. Earl hadn’t been fired from his job yet, so he still had life insurance. She imagined his body seizing up, keeling over, dead before he hit the floor. 

“Pearl!” Earl’s yelling brought her back to reality. “You’re not listening to me!” He slapped the table. “I work hard! You offer nothing and you can’t even listen to me?” 

Pearl got close, her chin just over Earl’s head. He smelled like beer. “I’ll earn more.” 

She felt a poke at her breast. “Is it just me or are your boobies getting bigger?” 

Pearl jumped back, her face and chest flushing. “Don’t be crazy, Earl.” 

He chuckled. “Seems like they grew a size overnight.” Earl reached over and patted Pearl’s stomach. “Maybe you’re eating a little too much pie.” 

Pearl locked eyes with her friends, terrified that Earl knew, or could figure it out, and so soon. But either he didn’t get it, or he didn’t let on, because then he stood up to leave. “And did you tell your little friends about this bad boy?” Earl pulled the neckline of his shirt down to reveal an angry red and black patch. Pearl realized soon enough he had gotten a tattoo. “ ‘Big Earl’,” he said proudly before galumphing out of the diner like an oversized horse. 

Pearl grabbed her husband's plate and slowly made her way behind the counter. 

“Big Earl,” said Kim sweetly. “That must be helpful, in case he forgets who he is.” 

Trixie offered Pearl her washcloth and mug setup. Pearl scraped at the inside of mugs with a vengeance. 

“Pearl,” said Kim. “Life is a shit show. My left boob is now so much bigger than my right I’m surprised I don’t trip over it.” 

Pearl gave a sad chuckle and kept cleaning. 

Kim motioned toward Trixie when she brushed past carrying a tray of food. “Lil’ Miss eats TV dinners every night alone.” 

“Meatloaf monday is a tradition in my house,” said Trixie. 

“ ‘House’ is generous there, Trix,” said Kim. 

“It _is_ a studio, but I do have a full-sized twin,” Trixie said with a sad amount of pride. 

Kim placed a hand on Pearl’s shoulder. “And we still wouldn’t rather be you.” 

“We sure wouldn’t,” said Trixie. 

Pearl shrugged them off to seat a new arrival. “Everybody’s working through their own stuff. Don’t worry about me.” 

Kim followed Pearl holding a bunch of menus. “What kind of father is Earl gonna be? Do that baby a favor and drop his sorry ass.” 

Pearl sighed. “He’d never let me.” 

Kim cradled Pearl’s face in her hands. “It wouldn’t be his decision.” 

Pearl seated the customers with a smile before she rested up against the wall. “Earl wasn’t always like this,” she said. “He’s just going through a rough patch right now.” 

Kim nodded solemnly. “And what’s the shelf life on that excuse?” 

The rush was dying down and Pearl obviously needed time to do some serious thinking. Kim and Trixie took over the floor, sending their co worker into the back for the best kind of thinking she did. 

**‘Where There’s a Whisk There’s a Way’ pie.**

**Make it up  
** **And surprise them  
** **Tell them all my secrets but disguise them  
** **So they dance on the tongue  
** **Of the very people that they're secrets from  
**

Pearl’s mother had taught her all she knew about baking. She baked from the heart, folding secrets into batter and filling. Mama bought time with baking, the promise of good things to come staving off the fear of now. Any moment Daddy could have come in, and no matter what she was doing, if he was in a beating mood there’d be beating had. 

But if there was flour on the counter, filling to sample, an oven preheating, he’d have mercy. He’d leave his women to do their best work in the kitchen and he would find something else to do for the time being. 

Pearl pinched the edges, molding top to crust and cut openings into the dome before sliding her work into the oven and pulling more ingredients for something new. 

**When it's done  
** **I can smile  
** **It's on someone else's plate for a while  
**

Pearl had promised herself she would never end up with a man who hit her, who scared her like her father had. But here she was. 

She slapped dough, hammered into it with all her strength. _Want it flat, flat as a pancake. Don’t know what it’ll be when it’s done_. 

**Make it soon  
** **Make it better  
** **Though, better never lasts forever  
**

The first time Earl hit her he’d been drunk. He’d got a terrified look in his eyes and held her, apologising over and over _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ until the words didn’t mean anything anymore. They were just rhythm behind the pulsing in her cheek. 

How long ago was that? Pearl sprinkled chocolate chips and folded them in. Two years? At some point he’d done it sober, at some point he’d stopped apologising. Pearl had stopped being surprised by the sting. 

**Even as the walls come tumbling down  
** **Even as I can't stop remembering how  
** **Every door we ever made, we never once walked out  
** **Something I never got the chance to ask her about  
**

Her mother hadn't left. When she was a teen she’d wished her mother had swept her up into her peppermint scented arms and whisked them away someplace he would never find them. 

Now in that same position, it was clear why Pearl couldn’t. Where would she go? She had no money, Earl made sure of that. She had few friends, and they were just as stuck as she was. 

**So with flour on my hands  
** **I'll show them all how  
** **Goddamn happy I am  
**

_I’ll think of something. I don’t know what but something. That’s later, this is now. I’m keeping the baby, that’s for sure. So I’ve gotta make an appointment. Where? Dr Bennet, sure, the only gynecologist in town. I’ll call her office on my break_. 

Just this little decision, it was enough to lift Pearl’s spirits. This was foreward motion, hard to stop once started. The rest would come, it would be fine. 

**Sugar, butter, flour  
** **Don't let me down!  
**Let's see the next amazing thing baking does now****

Her timer rang out and Pearl popped the oven door open wide, loving the whoosh of heat rolling out. With her mitts she pulled Silly Goose-berry pie from the rack and slotted it onto the display. 

“Lunch rush!” called Trixie. 

Pearl felt buoyant, bouncing around the kitchen as she washed flour from her hands. Taking her notepad and pen from the counter, she whipped through the door and onto the floor of Dave’s Diner, a change having already been made within her. 

**Let's see the next amazing thing baking does now!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're starting pretty close to the play, but ithis story takes on a life of its own don't you worry


	3. Dr Chachki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Pearl’s OB/GYN, Dr Chachki, who is here as they are IRL, nonbinary. The two bond over a mutual love for pie and semi-awkward conversation. No Song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I messed with the timeline to give more Pearlet interaction. *Nina voice* Sue Me.

“Wildflower Women’s Health offices, this is Mara.” 

“Hi.” Pearl felt her heart thrum in her chest. She made her mouth work around the words she’d practiced. “I need to schedule an appointment.” 

“Can I get a name?” 

“Pearl, ah, Pearl Hunterson.” Pearl let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. This wasn’t so bad. 

“Okay, and what is the purpose of your visit?” 

Pearl stiffened up. How -- how could she say it? Her throat felt tight. 

“Would this be a regular wellness check-up, a prenatal, postnatal --” 

“The-- the, uh, second one,” Pearl cringed at her own awkwardness. 

The voice on the phone softened. “Is this your first prenatal with us?” 

Pearl sighed. “It’s my first anything. I used to see Doctor Bennet when I was younger, but she stopped wanting to give me pills and--” 

“Doctor Bennet is almost entirely retired, she isn’t taking on any new patients.” 

“Oh,” Pearl felt her stomach fall to her feet. “B-but Doctor Bennet delivered me, I don’t want to get to know a new doctor.” 

“Doctor Chachki is a perfectly trained physician, they are taking over here as Doctor Bennet is phasing out,” the woman on the phone assured her. 

“Okay,” Pearl agreed, not bothering to mask her disappointment. “When can she see me?” 

“They,” said Mara robotically. “Doc actually has a four o’clock before closing if you’re free today. You’d be the last and free to take all the time you need getting acquainted.” 

Pearl chewed her lip. Looking up she saw Trixie headed toward her carrying a bin of dirty plates. Once she’d flagged down her coworker, she covered the receiver on the diner’s telephone. “If I make an appointment at four could you cover for me?” 

“Oh, of course,” said Trixie, shaking her head. 

Pearl patted the girl’s shoulder. “You’re a doll.” 

Turning back to the phone, she made the appointment at four. Unfortunately, the doctor’s office was 45 minutes away, and the woman on the phone wanted her to show up early to update some paperwork. This meant she had to cut out of work within the next twenty minutes if she wanted to make a good impression. Knowing her city’s bus system, Pearl decided she should take a pie to make up for any tardiness. Mama always said to make the first impression count. No better way to do that than with a meringue. Everybody loves a meringue. 

_____ 

Pearl jiggled her leg, acutely aware of how lonely the white walls were, the chill of the medical room. Dr Chachki. She swallowed. Who even was this person? Dr Bennet had been old and sweet, a midwife before saving up the money to go to med school and become a proper OB/GYN. She also happened to be the last person on the planet who could tell her anything about her mother. While she was filling out orders before she’d called this afternoon Pearl had gone through an entire imagined conversation. 

Dr Bennet would smile with her almond eyes. She’d hold her hands in a firm but comforting way, as she had when she first had a Well Woman. She’d congratulate Pearl and tell her all the wonderful ways this would all work out. She’d imagined a scenario when the real test came back and she actually wasn’t pregnant, and they would laugh it off. But Pearl didn’t bother going far with that scene, it just wasn’t going to be true. She was definitely pregnant, and she was definitely seeing this thing through. 

In the exam room Pearl took a deep, cleansing breath. If seeing this thing through meant getting to know a whole new doctor… she’d have to be okay with that. She heard the gentle approach of footsteps and sat up straighter, biting her lip. There was a low hum of a voice she didn’t recognize, and the clack of a turning door handle. The door swung open to reveal a figure as beautiful as was puzzling. The person who came through the door didn’t easily fit into Pearl’s knowledge of what man or woman looked like. They had dark hair pulled up into a tight bun, but men grew their hair out sometimes. Their eyebrows were shapely and direct, the set and shape of their brown eyes wasn’t giving anything away either. Their lashes weren’t especially long, and their jaw sloped in a feminine way, but their shoulders were ambiguous, as was their frame. It wasn’t until they thrust their hand outward that Pearl realized she was staring. 

“O-oh,” she fumbled so as not to drop the pie. “I’m-m Miss-missus Hunterson.” 

The face that puzzled Pearl smirked. “I just said that.” 

Pearl blushed. “I… didn’t hear. Doctor Chachki, I assume?” 

“And you missed my introduction as well.” The doctor laughed shortly. 

It seemed almost as if this person was… kinda… rude? Pearl pursed her lips and swallowed hard. 

“That’s a fine looking pie,” they said, one perfect eyebrow arching as they tilted their head to get a better look at the tin in Pearl’s lap. 

Pearl held it up to Dr Chachki. “It’s for you. Lemon meringue, I would have made the same for Dr Bennet if she was still practicing, and I don’t know your preferences and--” 

“It’s fine,” they said, holding out a long hand. “Mind if I just take that then?” 

Pearl handed it over, slightly at a loss for what to do with her hands now she didn’t have a baked good to cuddle. 

The doctor set the pie on the counter and went about setting materials. “So what appears to be the problem?” 

Pearl chuckled. “Well I seem to be pregnant.” 

“Oh that’s lovely, congratulations.” Dr Chachki’s face didn't move. 

“Well that’s very kind of you but I don’t want this baby,” Pearl blurted. 

Dr Chachki got a somewhat hesitant look, shifting from one foot to the other and not quite meeting Pearl’s eye. “Oh…. well Wildflower Women's Health doesn't perform --” 

“Oh no!” Pearl interjected. _Oh shit that was not what I meant to imply at all_. “I would never--” 

Dr Chachki nodded and seemed relieved they didn't have to refer her out for a procedure. 

“Not that I judge that though,” Pearl clarified. “I just…” she blew at a strand of hair in her vision. “I’m just not… _happy_ , about it, that’s all.” 

Dr Chachki tilted their head and again Pearl found herself staring, trying to riddle this person out. _Maybe I shouldn’t be so fixated on this_ , she thought. Within the next five minutes of going over dates and symptoms, Pearl realized she wasn’t trying to solve the mystery anymore -- she just liked looking at Dr Chachki. 

A swift knock came at the door and a nurse delivered a folder to the doctor without a word. Dr Chachki pulled the rolling chair from the cabinet and sat down. “Your blood test results,” they explained. Opening the folder and taking a quick glance, they nodded. “Big shocker here,” they said, looking over at Pearl. “You’re pregnant.” 

Pearl stared blankly. “I would pretend to be amazed but it has been a _long_ day.” 

“Oh, I get that completely.” The doctor gazed longingly at the meringue, still off on a corner of the cabinet. They pressed their thin lips together, making the skin turn white. Pearl could only see half their face. She couldn’t help but notice. _Dr Chachki is gorgeous_. 

“You know what?” said the doctor. “You’re my last patient today, and I have a ton of paperwork to get to before I can go home, would you…” they pointed behind them at the pie while squinting up at Pearl. “Would you mind sharing some of this, right now?” 

“Oh,” Pearl said, brightening just the littlest bit. She hadn’t expected this. “Sure, I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything to serve with.” 

Dr Chachki waved her off, heading straight into a drawer and pulling out a package. “It’s a doctor’s office, ma’am, we have no shortage of things to cut with.” 

Pearl couldn’t help but giggle when the doctor took a tiny scalpel to the meringue and managed to serve it -- if sloppily -- onto wax paper straight off the roll on the exam chair. “Ingenuity,” declared the doctor when they grabbed another set of medical utensils -- these ones not sharp, but looped in an O -- for them to eat with. Pearl laughed when they held out their utensil to toast with. 

“Oh, by the way,” said Dr Chachki, a smile playing at their lips. “I should probably finish my consultation, duh, I’m just distracted by pie. But, do you have any questions?” they asked before sticking their first bite in their mouth. 

The doctor’s face pulled into an expression of amazement, their eyes bulging before squeezing shut. Pearl giggled when Dr Chachki put their hand over their mouth. It was always her favorite part -- when someone took their first bite, that first reaction. It meant everything she poured into the pie -- heart, soul, memories, everything -- was worth it. She brought her own first bite to her mouth and let her eyes close. A memory came up, grating lemons with her mother’s hands around her own, showing her how. Pearl sighed and let herself lean back against the exam chair. It was pretty darn good. 

Dr Chachki swallowed and just looked at Pearl, stared at her for long enough to make her uncomfortable. “So, questions?” she asked. “What would I have questions about?” 

The doctor just blinked. Pearl smiled -- the experience must have been pretty intense. She’d done her job well in that case. When they finally woke up, the doctor said “Oh, um, questions-- do’s and don’ts. Excercise, sex.” 

Pearl carved herself another bite with her utensil. “Well I don’t do much of either of those so.” She popped the piece in her mouth. _Damn that’s pretty good_. 

The doctor looked at her. “Well,” they said. “If you did they’d both be safe activities, so long as you don’t... overdo it.” They got up and grabbed a flyer from one of the cabinets, the top of which read BAD FOODS. “Sorry I’m just dropping all of my fancy doctor stuff today, that is damn good pie!” 

Pearl smiled the most genuine she’d done all day. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“What are these things even called?” Pearl asked, staring through the center of the tool they were using to shovel pie into their mouths. It was like looking through an oversized pinhead. 

“Curette.” 

Pearl arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t those supposed to make pimples go away?” 

The doctor nodded. 

“Why would you need--” 

Dr Chachki shot Pearl a look that made her gulp down her meringue. “We’re eating. You don’t wanna know what I’ve extracted today with these things.” 

Pearl looked in horror at her curette, then back to the doctor. 

Their brown eyes bulged. “Oh my God, not these ones exactly -- they get sterilized after every use and these were packaged. They’re fresh don’t worry.” 

Pearl let out a huge sigh of relief and looked back at the doctor’s horrified face. She couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. The doctor followed, a kind of breathless sound followed by genuine guffawing laughter. They didn’t even speak for a good five minutes, their time spent eating meringue, glancing at each other and giggling like schoolchildren. 

After a while, Doctor Chachki sat up straight. “Okay,” they said as they covered the rest of the pie. “If I don’t stop this now, I’m going to down this whole thing in one go. And you’ll need one of these.” They took out a pad and pen from the pocket of their labcoat. “Here is a prescription for your prenatal vitamins, Pearl, is it?” It was odd, this feeling that bloomed in her chest when the doctor said her name. The way they said it… it was like she’d blown them away and they were double-checking to make sure she was human. She blushed and reached for the script from Dr Chachki. For a moment, their fingers brushed against each other. Their hand was warm. A tingle traveled around Pearl’s hand and up her arm. A thought popped up in Pearl’s head: _that’s a hand I want to hold_. 

Then she looked down and noticed the subtle silver band on Dr Chachki’s third finger. And her own modest gold band. She pulled her hand away and added the paper to the stack she’d collected under her arm. 

Dr Chachki reached for the door. “Can I walk you to your car?” 

“Actually I’m getting the bus.” 

“Oh, the bus stop isn’t far from here, I’ll walk you there instead,” they smiled. 

Pearl shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Oh, thank you. I do actually have one question.” 

Dr Chachki’s face neutralized. “Of course. Anything.” 

Pearl pursed her lips. “How pregnant am I?” 

They looked up at the wall behind Pearl as if it had the answer engraved on it. “Ah… 8 weeks, give or take.” 

“Two months,” said Pearl. “I won’t start showing for a while right?” 

The doctor nodded. 

_Okay_ , she thought with relief. _So I have time_. 

She let them walk her to the bus stop in silence. Pearl’s mind flipped between _2 months pregnant_ and _why am I hot for my married doctor_. 

In an effort to shut her brain up, as they were leaving the office Pearl blurted, “Can I ask you a personal question?” 

Dr Chachki hesitated. “Depends on the question.” 

Pearl sighed. “Are you a man or a woman?” 

Thy gave a sigh so heavy Pearl thought they might fall over. “I am a doctor.” 

“Right,” said Pearl. _Why are you pressing this you’re obviously making them uncomfortable you’re totally gonna ask again ohmygod_. “But what’s in your pants?” 

“Medicine,” they said shortly as they turned a corner. “Right, that’s the bus stop up there, enjoy your life, avoid seafood, I want to see you back in 4 to 6 weeks, call my office if you have any problems.” 

Pearl was more disappointed than she should have been that they didn’t even say goodbye.


	4. You Will Still Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Till the End of time you will still be mine’ he sings while she imagines she’s riding someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warning** bc Earl is an abusive ass, if you need to go ahead and skip this chapter. The summary basically tells you what you need to know.

Pearl’s mind faded in and out the whole ride home. She almost stepped onto the wrong bus headed for the inner city.   
She tried not to think, think about how evasive Dr Chachki had been when she’d asked their gender. How she’d pressed even though it was clear the topic made them uncomfortable. She tried to weave together an idea for a pie inspired by the doctor, who was actually really relatable and good natured, beneath the surface. Something made of sponge, white sponge, on account of their skin, dark chocolate frosting, on account of that dark brown -- almost black -- hair. Maybe with a filling. Served warm, like the hands--

Pearl shook her head. All thoughts fragmented apart and pulled back together into Dr Chachki. That was bad, very bad. This was like when Earl had first asked her out in high school. She hadn’t given him a second glance until he took an interest. No other boys ever did. When she walked through the front door, Earl was sitting on their couch, drinking beer and eating Bugles like he hadn't changed since junior year. He hadn’t. Earl didn’t even acknowledge her coming home, his eyes fixed on the Redskins game. 

“Honey, can you pause that?” Pearl knew he recorded every game, even the bad ones. They clogged up the DVR, and Pearl didn’t dare delete his games, even though he had no problem erasing episodes of Pioneer Kitchen and Great British Baking Show. 

Earl stuffed a handful of Bugles into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Um, why?” the hostility in his voice set Pearl’s teeth on edge. 

“I got something I want to show you,” she said and made her way around the couch to stand just behind Earl’s right knee. 

With a huff, the man clicked the game into pause, the players static on the flickering screen. “What? I don’t see pie.” 

Pearl leaned forward and very quickly forced her lips against her husband’s. She heard a noise of surprise in the back of his throat and sat down on his leg. As Pearl deepened the kiss, tasting beer and junk food, she rode Earl’s leg, tensing her thighs around his. Overcoming his shock, Earl retaliated, grabbing Pearl around the waist and digging his tongue around her mouth. 

Pulling her hair down, Pearl inched herself forward on Earl’s body until she was straddling him, painfully aware of the bulge in his jeans. Bad thoughts niggled at the edges of her mind, but she found that thinking of Dr Chachki pushed them away. When she stopped thinking about the doctor, the thoughts came back. Every time she was about to stop thinking about them, she ground her wet panties against Earl’s jeans, imagining them to be dress pants under a white coat. 

He started rocking her on his legs, wordlessly telling her he was about to stand, and to hold on tight. Pearl gripped her fingers in the hair on the back of his neck. She ran her hands over the back of his head and pictured a tight bun there, to be undone. Long and thin hair falling freely, probably past the shoulders. 

Pearl was aware of being walked to the bed, but when he leaned her against the edge, she breathed hot in his ear, “Turn around.” 

She could tell he wanted to look at her questioningly, but she tucked her mouth into his neck and he followed her wish. “Now lie back,” Pearl whispered, rubbing her palm around his nipple. 

Earl wasn’t used to this; he awkwardly reached a hand out to the mattress behind him and lowered himself down. Pearl unhooked her legs from him and stood on wobbly knees. She went to unbuttoning her uniform and pulling off her undershirt, bra and panties. From the rustling in front of her, Earl had followed suit. She kept her head down, her blonde hair falling damply around her face. She couldn’t look at him -- then she might think about what she was doing. _No, don’t think about this_. 

She crawled on all fours up the bed to keep kissing him. He eagerly kissed back, playing with her tits. They were sore, on account of them growing -- _don’t think about that_. She grabbed his hands and repositioned them on her ass, where he squeezed gleefully. Pearl walked her hands down Earl’s bare torso, winding around the tattoo that she tried very hard not to read. His name was literally written on his chest -- she couldn’t avoid looking at just his face. 

Her fingers found his sweaty junk, his hairy balls engorged, his cock reddened and hard. She wiped at the wet head, spreading the precum around the sensitive bell. Pearl stopped just long enough to swing her legs around his body, repositioning so she faced away from him. She kneeled so the head of his pulsing hot cock was just against her entrance. 

Earl panted loudly behind her. “Aren’t you gonna… insist on… a condom?” he asked between loud breaths. 

Pearl spread her knees on the mattress, letting herself sink down. She turned her head, her view of the man behind her blocked by a wall of her own mussed hair. She held a finger to her lips. “Shhhh.” 

Earl knew better than to question further. They hadn’t had sex in a month -- maybe more. Definitely more. Eight weeks -- _don’t think about that_. 

Pearl closed her eyes and slowly eased her way down the cock. She imagined it belonged to someone who wasn’t Earl. That long and warm fingers wound their way up her hips, that when she positioned herself so he rubbed up against that sweet spot that sent her speeding towards her peak, it was a certain pale intellectual, who got paid to care for her. 

She knew she was close, knew that the way the thighs beneath her twitched, he was seconds away. Pearl worked her clit with one hand while she stuffed the other in her mouth to stop from calling out. 

_Chachki!_

He erupted inside her seconds before she clenched around him. Pearl buckled forward and grabbed at the duvet, balling it up in her free hand, feeling her skin scream when she bit down. Her toes curled and she let herself slide sideways off of him. 

Pearl buried her face in the pillow on her side of the bed and stayed that way until she started feeling lightheaded. Then she turned her back to Earl and curled into herself. 

She didn’t expect to fall asleep, but Pearl wasn’t surprised when she woke up hours later. The guilt set in immediately after. Earl was up, his light was on, and there was a sound… that Pearl hadn’t heard in a long time. 

Pearl squinted against the light and turned over. “Are you playing your guitar?” 

Earl plucked at the strings. “It had been a while,” he said, not to anyone in particular. He glanced over at Pearl and half-smiled. “Not the only thing we haven’t done in a while.” 

Pearl pushed her face into the pillow. God, that smile. And Earl’s whole being had shifted. It stung, knowing this man was still in there. She couldn’t hate him all the way -- not when this was lying beneath the surface. 

“I was thinking,” he said. 

Kim’s voice popped into Pearl’s head. _Been a while since he did that too_. Pearl hummed, telling him to keep talking. It’s all she had to do anymore. Let him know she was listening. He never asked about her thoughts, never listened to _her_. 

Earl plucked one string over and over, twisted it into tune. Pearl used to love to listen to him jam. He’d just strum in the background while she did both of their homework. Now she found the repetitive plucking grated on her worn nerves. 

“ **Remember my clean shave / Back in our old days / We were just kids**?” He stared off into the distance. 

Pearl sighed. Reliving the past again. _But_ , a side of her argued, _it’s better than the present_. 

Earl switched to a vague progression of chords. “ **I had my six string / And you had your own thing / Though I don’t remember what it is.** ” 

Pearl closed her eyes again. She so badly wanted to love Earl, to love her husband like a good wife should. 

“ **I wrote you love songs / And you liked that sad one / So I played it all the time**.” 

And she felt terrible about what she did… but… Pearl was beginning to see Earl didn’t actually love her either. She rested an open hand on her lower belly, below her navel. 

“ **What was that one line / Something ‘bout sunshine? I sang it every night/**

“ **Where the sun don’t shine?** Naw that can’t be it.” he turned back to her. “What was it baby?” 

Kim’s earlier words echoed in her mind. _What kind of father will Earl be?_ She swallowed. “ **‘Til the sun don’t shine** ,” she sang. “ **You will still be mine**.” 

Earl kept singing and with every line Pearl felt her heart droop a little further. She’d spent so long pretending, pretending that nothing was broken, that if she just ignored the dirty laundry for long enough, it would magic itself away. 

**That’s right**  
**Man what a whirlwind**  
**So much has happened**  
**And mostly to me**  
**We’ve come such a long way**  
**No turning back now babe**  
**You’re my family**  


_I wish I wasn’t_. Pearl had to take a deep breath and think happy thoughts to keep from crying. Earl turned back to her and reached for her right hand with his own. They’d both fallen asleep with their wedding rings on. 

“Now promise me,” he said. “ **To the end of time / These are ties that bind**.” 

Pearl wanted to disappear. Earl was gazing straight into her eyes. She didn’t have a choice, like so much of their marriage. 

“ **Sing it, baby** ,” said Earl. 

“ **Till the sun don’t shine** ,” Pearl’s voice wavered. He joined her for the next line. 

“ **You will still be mine**.” 

Pearl pulled her hand away to cover her mouth. 

“ **Mine** ,” sang Earl. 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness between her thighs. Sick rose in her throat. 

“ **Mine** ,” he sang. 

If he heard her in the bathroom, he either didn’t think anything of it, or he didn’t care. Pearl washed her mouth out and heard him sing again. 

“ **Mine**.” 

She was bent back over the toilet immediately.


	5. When (S)he Sees Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ **What if I give myself away, to only get it given back?** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's safe! Some cute Trixya pining.

It was safe to say Trixie Mattel guarded her heart with steel-plated walls. She’s seen so much heartbreak, in real life and on TV, that she never ever wanted to experience that. Some would say part of the human experience was getting your heart broken -- better to have loved and lost and all that. Trixie did not think so. 

Why would anyone open themselves up to what Pearl was going through? Or Kim -- she and Davis weren’t exactly the most functional couple. She’d served no shortage of heartbroken folks at the diner, had them dish out their sob stories to anyone who would listen. In general, Trixie liked learning by example, rather than experience. She didn’t have to touch the hot burner, only to see her brother do so, and she knew better. Trixie stuck to herself, her own mind, her own feelings, at least with herself she was safe. 

Which is why it had taken two months of secret notes left for her on tables for Trixie to even consider writing back. Her admirer took it slow, somehow knowing just how thick her walls were. It was a miracle neither Kim nor Pearl had caught her reading the secret letters on her breaks. They started every Tuesday, left with tip under coffee mug, written in blue ink that smeared with coffee and red lipstick from being left under the upside-down cup. They started with innocuous compliments, little rays of sunshine to lift her spirits. 

_To the little blonde waitress: Your hair looks pretty today -- Secret Admirer_

No phone number, no asking for her to come over and ‘hang’, just simple, thoughtful words of kindness from a stranger. 

The notes came more frequently -- not too many though, that would cause alarm. They stayed sweet. Soon enough the admirer learned her name, and started using it. 

_Trixie, today was very busy. I watched that customer be mean to you. You dealt with her so well. You’re doing such a good job. I’m proud of you. -- Secret Admirer_

Trixie hadn’t given much thought to which one of their regulars the admirer might be. Until one day she locked eyes with a patron who almost always wore a thin brimmed hat over blonde hair, red lips poking out from behind her loose hair. This customer sat alone, smartly yet unfashionably dressed, and smelled nice. She rarely made eye contact, her gaze locked always on her phone or at a menu or on her coffee. Trixie hadn’t minded -- some people just didn’t like eye contact. But the second she looked into the woman’s eyes she knew. 

Bright, roadsign blue, so intense Trixie didn’t want to look straight at her. It was like staring into the sun. And her face -- her features sculpted in stone, there weren’t any flaws there. Trixie had stammered, forgetting what she had been about to say completely and retreating to the kitchen. When she rang the woman up, Trixie wrote a note of her own. 

_Admirer, funny, you know my name and I don’t know yours. ~~ Trixie_

She scrawled in pink ink, letters looping cheerily. Her admirer’s note that day made her slap her own forehead. 

_It’s Katya. -- Katya P.S. previously known as Secret Admirer P.P.S. you never thought to look at my receipts? ;)_

Trixie had an uncontrollable bout of laughter when she looked down at the dotted line. Even if she’d had the good sense to find her admirer’s name out herself, she wouldn’t have been able to read it. Katya’s chicken-scratch signature was indecipherable! She must put in extra effort to make her notes legible. 

The next note was further contact. 

_Trixie, I can’t help but notice how ratty your sneakers are. They must be uncomfortable. What’s your shoe size? Please let me serve you like you serve me and so many others. -- Katya_

Trixie had really kicked around whether or not she should let Katya do this. Her sneakers were old and she was getting calf cramps and pains in the arches of her feet because of their sad state. A second note came into her pocket halfway through Katya’s coffee. 

_If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to guess your size and come here with a different one every day until I find the right size. --Katya._

On the bottom of Katya’s receipt that day was scrawled in pink ink: size 6 ½. Trixie wore her new pair daily. 

Through the first two months of their correspondence like this, never once did Trixie think to slide into the vacant side of Katya’s booth and strike up a conversation. Katya seemed to know she couldn’t, that it was her job and she couldn’t be seen slacking. 

It was a miracle it took Kim this long to find the stack of notes Trixie had been saving in her work locker. When Trixie came in after finishing off the last customers of the day to find Kim flipping through the stressed pile of receipts and stained envelopes that were Trixie’s only secret, the girl almost forgot to breathe. 

“You know how sad this pile is?” asked her coworker. 

Trixie wanted to bolt. To burst into tears. She just stood. 

Kim slid out from the table. “You’re going on a date with this Katya person.” 

“N-n-no I’m-- No I’m not,” Trixie stammered. 

“Davis!” called Kim to her husband. “Me and Trixie have someplace to be -- you’re closing shop tonight!” Kim grabbed Trixie by the arm and forcibly took her out to her car, where the woman gunned the engine and drove off, her husband and employer yelling obscenities as they left. Trixie tried to be broody and distant, telling herself she wouldn’t say a peep to Kim--she wasn’t entitled to know every detail of Trixie’s life--until Kim pulled up next to Cold Stone Creamery and Trixie started bouncing with excitement in the car seat. 

Once inside, the ladies, still in their uniforms, were served by a possibly stoned teenager with ear gauges and eyebrow piercings. Trixie practically bounced in her shoes; it was so fun to be the person being served for once! Just as Trixie was pulling into a two-seater table with her cup of pistachio, strawberry and rocky road, the door opened and in walked Pearl! 

Kim was the first to greet their coworker, pecking her on either cheek and guiding her over to their table by her shoulders. Trixie sprung up when Pearl neared, her mouth full of cold sweet. Throwing her arms around her fellow waitress, she squeezed tight. 

Once Trixie released her, Pearl sat down hard in a metal chair. “What’s been going on, girl?” asked Trixie, shoving a spoonful in her mouth. “Hardly ever see you outside of work anymore.” 

Pearl sighed. “Earl’s been on the hunt for a new job.” She stared down Trixie’s ice cream with lustful eyes. The other women heard her stomach growl in the silence. 

Kim jumped up to grab a spare spoon for Pearl, whose face was very pink. She opened her mouth as if to apologise, but Kim shut her down. “If anybody deserves ice cream, it’s you.” 

Trixie nodded and pushed the paper cup further towards the middle of the table. Pearl jammed the plastic spoon into the stiff ice cream. 

“Where do you sneak off to anyway?” asked Trixie. “You’re leaving early a lot -- not that we mind covering.” 

Pearl set a spoonful of rocky road on her tongue and let out a downright lewd moan. Trixie squirmed in her seat and Kim hid a laugh behind a cough. Pearl shoved her spoon back into the cup. “Honestly? I’ve been going to the library,” she said, staring down at the table. “Gotta do some research, you know, and reading baby books at home…” her voice trailed off before she shook her head. 

Trixie pursed her lips. “You haven’t told him yet?” 

Pearl swallowed another bite and looked at Trixie like she was crazy. “I’ve only known for a week.” She shook her head and carved out another spoonful of rocky road. “I’ll tell him when the time is right.” 

Kim hummed skeptically before changing the subject. “And anyway, we aren’t here to hound Pearl about her decisions,” she said. “We’re here to hound you for your indecision.” 

Trixie whined and hacked at the strawberry mound with her weak spoon. 

Pearl looked to Kim. “Oh yeah, did you bring these love notes?” 

Trixie squirmed. “They’re not love notes.” 

Kim pulled a stack of receipts and envelopes from her purse and handed them over to Pearl, who flipped through awwing gleefully. “ _Trixie_ ,” gushed Pearl. “Why haven’t you gone on a date with this person? They’re obviously interested!” 

Trixie shook her leg anxiously. “Because,” she hissed. “If I don’t actually get to know her, it’s not real.” Her coworkers offered only blank stares in response. Trixie rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s safer this way, okay?” she grabbed half of the stack from Pearl. “Say I burn these, don’t pick up any new ones, make sure the admirer is always in one of your sections, it all goes away, okay? Risk free.” 

Kim raised her hands to her face. “Jesus, Trixie, you and risks.” 

Trixie threw down her spoon. “You two just don’t get me. People are easy for you--emotions-- they’re not easy for me!” She folded her hands on the table, ice cream forgotten and now in the protective hands of Pearl, who continued to scarf down hungry bites while Trixie monologued. 

“ **I stick with real things, Usually facts and figures. When information's in its place, I minimize the guessing game**.” She looked up. “ **Guess what**?” 

“ **What**?” asked Kim tiredly. 

“Wuh?” asked Pearl, her mouth full. 

Trixie slapped the table. “ **I don't like guessing games**. Isn’t love just the biggest guessing game there is?!” Before either of her married friends could respond, Trixie continued. “You know what else I don’t like? **When I** start to **feel things** ,” she cringed. “Without knowing what those feelings are, where they come from, what they mean.” She took a shaky breath. “ **How am I supposed to operate, If I'm just tossed around by fate**?” 

Pearl held up her spoon, starting to understand where Trixie was coming from. “ **Like on an unexpected date**?” 

“Exactly!” said Trixie. “I haven’t actually communicated with this Katya, except in notes. She **might talk too fast, Or ask me questions about myself, Before I've decided that** I want her to know these things, if I even know what she’s asking about me. S **he might sit too close** , she might be a mouth breather, or a flat-earther or an anti-vaxxer,” Trixie shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. “But what scares me the most… 

“ **What scares me the most, Is what if when she sees me, what if she doesn't like it? What if she runs the other way and I can't hide from it**?” When she looked back at her friends, her eyes were glistening. “ **If when she knows me, she's only disappointed? What if I give myself away, to only get it given back**?” She shook her head and her voice cracked. “ **I couldn’t live with that**.” 

Trixie sat back in her chair. 

Kim rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Oh you are so far back in your shell you can’t even imagine what light is.” 

Trixie righted her shoulders and poked at the ice cream Pearl had started hoarding. Pearl let her in begrudgingly. “Well you know what, Kim?” she said. “ **I am just fine** , thank you very much, hidden away **in my shell-shaped mind. At least this way I get the best view**.” She looked into the distance wistfully. “ **So that when she sees me, I want her to**.” 

Pearl wiped at her mouth with a paper-thin brown napkin. “Trix, **don’t you think you’re being a little -- I mean just a tad--** ” 

“ **I’m not defensive**!” Trixie cut her off. “ **I'm simply being cautious. I can't risk reckless dating, Due to some miscalculations**.” She shook her head. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from pure observation through the years, it’s that **you cannot be too careful when it comes to sharing your life**.” Again, Trixie threw up her hands. “ **I could end up a miserable wife**!” 

Kim set her mouth and eyebrows, not appreciating that last statement. Pearl coughed, “Excuse me?” 

“ **Sorry girls**.” Trixie winced at her friend’s reactions. She hadn’t exactly meant it that way, but she wasn’t going to deny the truth. Instead she changed the subject. “But I don’t actually know her -- **she could be criminal** for all I know. **Some sort of psychopath who escaped from an institution. She could have masterminded some way to find me** , secretly planning to get me to her apartment only to drug me and chop me into ribbons!” she ranted, her anxiety rising with every word. Trixie ran her hand through her hair. “ **Or even worse she could be very nice, have lovely eyes. And make me laugh... come out of hiding…** ” 

Pearl and Kim shared a look while Trixie thought aloud. They were getting somewhere, and any further prodding might just make Trixie close herself off again, turning away what might be her only chance at true love. 

Trixie sighed and hid behind her hands. “ **What if when she sees me, I like her and she knows it? What if she opens up a door, And I can't close it? What happens then**?” She started to shake, and Pearl had to push down the urge to comfort the girl. “ **If when she holds me, My heart is set in motion, I'm not prepared for that. I'm scared of--of breaking open**!” 

To Pearl and Kim’s surprise, Trixie burst out crying. Pearl was the first to hold her arms around the girl’s shaking shoulders and pull her into as much of an embrace as they could manage. Kim pulled up behind Trixie and patted her shoulder awkwardly. 

“I -- I just -- I just,” Trixie stammered between sobs. “ **I just wanna find someone** … who I can talk to… **who** actually **likes** me **the way that I am**.” 

Pearl bit her lip to keep from saying ‘we like you the way you are’. That wasn’t what Trixie needed right now. With the amount of tears coming out of her face, Pearl almost wondered if there’d been a mistake, and that Trixie was the hormonal one instead of her. 

Trixie took a few deep breaths -- as deep as she could manage. “ **I want someone who… when she sees me… wants to again**.” 

“Well,” said Kim. “Call me crazy… but that sounds like someone who has said and I quote,” she held up one of Katya’s notes -- this one scrawled on the back of a Bank of America envelope. Kim read aloud: 

_Gotta watch my figure so I’m cutting myself off from pie._  
_Which makes you the only reason I keep coming here_.  
_\-- Katya_  



	6. It Only Takes A Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at work, Trixie agrees to a date with Katya. Pearl catches word of an opportunity that might mean a way out for her and her unborn baby. On the way home, she runs into Dr Chachki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to get back into some Pearlet? It gets brighter here, but this fic is based on a broadway musical, which means Act 1 is Happy Fun Times and Act 2 is Pain Made Tangible. Enjoy it while it lasts!

Trixie was buzzing all day, possibly from all the coffee and adrenaline in her system. She couldn’t find it in her to eat; that involved staying in one place for more than 30 seconds, and she was far too jittery to hold onto anything while she worked. Pearl had been feeling better actually, but she reveled in the ability to sit down for a while today. Trixie was a whirlwind of a waitress, taking over every responsibility she could. It wasn’t enough. Even though her body was going full speed trying to distract herself, Trixie’s mind was still going a mile a minute. What if Trixie had misinterpreted Katya’s words and signals? What if Katya didn’t actually like her that way? What if she forgot what she was going to say when she looked into Katya’s eyes? What if she didn’t come at all? 

An hour after opening, Kim grabbed Trixie by the arm as she passed the counter. “Okay, kid, I can’t let you go on like this.” Trixie’s lip quivered. “I can’t. I have to--” she made out as if to escape the woman's grasp but was stopped. 

“Stop for a second or you’re going to pass out before Katya even gets here.” Kim held her coworker by both her shoulders and demanded she breathe. “In,” she directed, following her own instructions. “Out.” 

Pearl returned from the floor. “Your true love’s here.” 

“What?!” Trixie scream-whispered. She grabbed onto Kim and didn’t let go. “I’m gonna pass out.” 

Kim hauled Trixie into the bathroom so she could swat some sense into the girl like her mother had when she was misbehaving. “Good God, Girl,” said Kim after one conservative smack on the cheek. “Get. A. Grip.” 

Trixie slowly raised one hand to her now pink cheek. “Thank you,” she said robotically. 

Kim pulled Trixie into a tight hug. “Now go out there and make a date!” 

Trixie had to stuff her notepad in her pocket-- her palms were so sweaty she was afraid she’d drop it outright. Making her way over to Katya’s regular booth, the coffee kettle shook obviously in her hand, sloshing boiling hot liquid down the side of her hand. Trixie bit down on her lip to keep from screaming but kept going, crossing over to the booth in half the time it would usually take her. “Coffee, ma’am!” she said in a voice that was much too loud for what was supposed to be a smooth introduction. God, Trixie wanted to run and hide but Pearl and Kim had the exits patrolled. She swallowed hard before inviting herself into the booth opposite the blonde bombshell that was Katya Zamo. 

The woman put down her morning newspaper and smiled, nudging her mug closer to Trixie with short trimmed fingernails. Trixie lifted the kettle in her shaking hands and comically spilled half a cup’s worth on Katya’s newspaper. She went red. “Oh, well I’m sure nothing important was in that anyway! President antagonizing world leaders, natural disasters, Syrian civil war,” she joked, swiping at the mess with a washcloth. Katya threw her head back and let out the most hyena-esque, loudest, wheeziest laugh Trixie had ever heard. She fell in love right then. 

Pearl sipped orange juice at the counter and watched it all go down with Kim. Once they had been satisfied that Trixie wasn’t going to turn and run, they had abandoned the exits. All they saw was the face of the woman Katya, her startling blue eyes and wild blonde hair, her skin tan and lean, her face chiseled, if somewhat gaunt. “She looks charmed,” noted Pearl, motioning in the direction of the happy couple. 

“She was okay with our girl dumping hot coffee all over her table so that’s a plus,” added Kim. 

Pearl smacked the counter in front of Kim. “oooh she’s writing something down!” 

“Who is?” 

“Katya.” Pearl stuffed half a blueberry muffin in her mouth. Since she’d mostly gotten over her morning sickness -- except late at night, ironically -- Pearl found herself craving sweets. Being the baker for a local diner was not helping keep her within that 15 lb limit Dr Chachki had warned her about. “They’re getting up now,” she commented to Kim, who was cleaning up a spill. 

Both of their heads snapped up to watch the awkward exchange where Trixie and Katya didn’t know if they were going in for a hug or handshake. Likely due to her sweaty palms, Trixie held up a hand for a high-five -- minimal contact to show just how nervous she was. 

After seeing Katya off, Trixie returned to the counter, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. Her face was beet red. Kim and Pearl looked at her expectantly. Trixie bounced up and down on her heels. “We have a date.” 

Pearl and Kim broke out into the kind of celebration reserved for World Series and Super Bowl watch parties. Some of their patrons looked at the waitstaff quizzically before returning to their coffee and newspapers. 

“When is this happening?!” squealed Pearl. 

“Keep your voice down,” Trixie fidgeted, bashful. “This Friday. We’re going to the aquarium -- nothing too fancy, I insisted. But I’m so excited girls you don’t even know--” 

“Oh we do know!” said Kim. “We’ve been anxiously waiting for the day you got a date. You don't have a mom around to pester you about grandchildren so we get to do that.” 

“Oh,” said Trixie, heading toward her employee locker. “Speaking of moms, Pearl I got you something.” 

Pearl touched her chest. “Aw, Trix, you didn’t have to.” 

Trixie returned with a book slung under her arm. “Aw, it’s nothing really. It's so you won't have to sneak out to do research. I looked for the best baby books and this one’s just really cute,” she said, flipping through the pages for Pearl to see. There were little illustrations of the baby narrating what was happening and how excited it is to meet its mom. “It even has a place for you to write your first letter to your baby.” Trixie pointed out, smiling. 

Pearl fidgeted uncomfortably. 

Kim stopped mopping for a second. “You still haven’t connected with this baby have you?” 

Trixie pouted her lip. “You aren’t excited? Not even a little bit?” She thought the book would help at least. 

Pearl scoffed and reached for a washcloth to start clearing away cups. “Not everybody wants to be a mom, Trixie, that doesn’t make me a bad person.” 

“Of course it doesn’t,” said Trixie softly. “But…” 

Pearl whisked herself away from her coworkers to tend to her tables. Seated in a booth was Mr Charles, an older man who was somewhat of a difficult customer, but a generous tipper all the same. “Mr Charles,” Pearl greeted warmly. “What’ll it be today?” 

Mr Charles fanned out his newspaper. “I’ll have orange juice to start with, then coffee -- don’t bring the coffee before the juice you hear?” 

“OJ then coffee, got it sir,” she parroted. Pearl scribbled on her notepad -- Mr Charles got a fright upset when the girls worked off of memory, even though they’d never made a mistake when it came to his specific demands. “Need any extra time to look at the menu?” 

“Nonsense, little lady,” said Mr Charles as he set down his paper to crane his neck to look up at the menu board. “I’ll also have the special pie. ‘Betrayed by my e--” he squinted to make sure he was seeing the title right. “Betrayed By My Eggs?” 

Pearl turned beet red hearing it spoken aloud. “Special pie and anything else?” 

“Yes, listen to this before you go.” Mr Charles raised his paper to his face and Pearl prepared to listen to his horoscope or his opinion on the Opinion section. The old man was always trying to get the waitstaff to sit and listen to him read his paper. 

_100% tip_ , she reminded herself. 

Then Mr Charles cleared his throat and started to read.  
“ _Three time Springfield Pie Competition winner Eunice Pavildy spends her prize money on an R.V._ ” His eyes flicked up to Pearl’s face. “It’s about time you entered.” 

Pearl's cheeks pinkened at the idea of someone thinking her pies were worth entering at Springfield, but she shook her head. “Aw that’s awful kind of you Mr Charles but let’s face it. My pies are good but I’m no Sara Lee.” 

“Grand prize is twenty thousand dollars.” Mr Charles looked over his glasses at Pearl. He lowered his voice. “Good amount of money to raise a child on.” 

All the color drained from Pearl’s face. “How did you know?” she hissed. 

Mr Charles’ face was stoic as he returned to his paper. “Honey I’ve been around for a long time and I’ve come to know how to spot things in people -- potential, mostly.” He let a moment pass before he added, “Also I heard your girlfriends talking.” 

Pearl exhaled and turned on her heel to grab the man’s drink. Before she got too far she heard him call out, “Deadline to apply is three weeks out! Think about it!” 

. 

Pearl thought about it all right. She thought about it while she was baking, while she balanced trays for lunch rush, as she scrubbed down tables. 

‘Getting Out of the Mud’, Mud Pie  
**Two scoops of mocha almond ice cream, topped with bittersweet chocolate roses** \-- 

“Um hello? Earth to Pearl?” 

Pearl snapped out of her revelry, expecting to see a judgemental Kim standing over her. Instead she was met with the perfectly formed, sculpted-by-the-gods face of Dr Chachki. 

“Oh!” Pearl said. She suddenly remembered that she was seated on a bench waiting for her bus to turn up. She scootched over on the bench so the doc could sit down. “Uh, hi there. Nice to see you again.” 

They took a seat next to Pearl on the bench. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s a highly paid professional like yourself doing here?” she asked. 

“Car wouldn’t start this morning so I took the bus,” they said. “I forgot how much I don’t like busses.” The doctor smiled. 

Pearl shrugged. “Well, some of us don’t have the option.” 

“Oh I know -- I used to be one of them,” they said, leaning against the backrest. 

“Really?” asked Pearl. 

“Yeah,” said Dr Chachki, rolling their eyes. “You think doctors don’t have tuition fees?” 

“I guess I just assumed professionals had the money to start with.” Pearl looked at the pavement. “But now that I say it out loud it sounds silly.” She cleared her throat. “Headed home?” 

“Uh yeah. I live up in Stepping Grove… with my wife.” 

“Oh wow,” Pearl breathed. She remembered the ring on Dr Chachki’s finger, and the one on her own. She cleared her throat, deciding to keep the conversation to real estate. “That’s a real nice part of town.” 

“I guess,” said Dr Chachki dismissively. “If you like trees.” 

Pearl just looked at them like they were the strangest person she’d ever met. 

“What?” they asked. “Just because I don’t make 13k a year doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a grunge aesthetic? Yeah my neighborhood’s nice, but it’s sterile. I work around absurd cleanliness every goddamn day at the office. It’s not right that there's a part of town with no litter on the streets.” 

Pearl chuckled. “You want litter? You should come ‘round to my neighborhood. If I had a dollar for every piece of trash just around my house I’d have enough money to buy the whole block.” 

There was a silence after that, but not necessarily an uncomfortable one. Pearl jiggled her leg, making the whole bench vibrate. “Something on your mind?” prodded Dr Chachki. 

Pearl breathed in. “I’m sorry for what I said last time we saw each other.” She looked back at them. “It was entirely none of my business. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” 

The doctor pressed their lips together and nodded. “I accept the apology. It’s weird that after all these years I can still… freak out over the question of my gender. You fed me really yummy pie -- you didn’t deserve to get dropped like that.” 

Pearl reached over to pat their knee. Their eyes locked with hers. Pearl shied away -- just that gaze, seemed to penetrate her whole being, making her feel tingly like a teenager. 

“I’m gonna tell you something,” said Dr Chachki suddenly. 

Pearl looked back at them -- they seemed to be sizing her up, making decisions she wasn’t included on. She nodded, signaling them to say their piece. 

“Just,” they began. “ **Seeing you sitting here all by yourself in your uniform. You remind me of a girl I once knew**.” 

Pearl looked down at herself and smoothed her thin skirt. The buttons on the top half of her dress screamed, her bust straining in the uniform. She wanted to undo half of the fasteners, just to get some air. Her mother would be ashamed though, that would be exposing herself in public. 

Dr Chachki thought aloud about the woman from their past. “ **God, by now she's well in middle age. Probably 41. 42**.” 

“ **Um** ,” said Pearl, one eyebrow lifted. “ **Thank you**?” 

“ **What**?” They looked up as if awoken from a dream. Upon seeing Pearl’s confused and slightly offended expression, they went red and backtracked. “ **Oh my god! No! No! No! No!** ” they seemed mortified. 

Pearl couldn’t help but laugh. Soon enough the doctor was chuckling at their awkwardness too. 

“ **She was a waitress** ,” they clarified. “ **at a shop I used to frequent quite a lot. Nice teeth and small hands. Snuck me goodies I couldn't afford then. But she was sweet too** , just…” their voice trailed off. “ **Reminds me of you**.” 

Pearl blushed and pressed her lips together. “ **Yeah well, people don’t… notice me like that so I… don’t really know how to…** ” 

“ **Well somebody did** ,” Dr Chachki shrugged. At Pearl’s blank stare they explained. “ **Bec-Because you have… the... baby. Anyway**. 

“ **She’d bake the pies fresh every day, like you I guess**.” they turned to look at Pearl intensely and without warning they reached for her hand. “ **But I have to tell you, If pies were books yours would be Shakespeare's letters**.” 

Pearl blushed even harder than before. She’d heard compliments before, but none made her feel like Chachki’s words did. 

“ **You remind me of her** ,” they said. “ **But better**.” 

Chachki’s hand still lay open, inviting Pearl to take it. She did, briefly, only to squeeze their palm in thanks. They were being so sweet -- she really, _really_ wasn’t used to that. 

When Pearl retracted her hand, just as quickly as she’d held theirs, Chachki softly curled their fingers around the open space pearl’s hand had just occupied. “ **It only takes a taste** ,” they began, their voice soft. “ **When it's something special. It only takes a taste when you know it's good**.” 

They lifted their gaze to connect with Pearl’s. They examined every facet of her face, the worry lines gathering on her forehead, the ghostly freckles leftover from childhood. “ **Sometimes one bite is more than enough** ,” they said, taking in the depth of Pearl’s eyes. “ **To know you want more of the thing you just got a taste of**.” 

Pearl threw her long ponytail over her shoulder and smiled. “ **That reminds me of a thing we would say. Me and my mamma in the kitchen when we'd bake. She’d say** , ‘Pearl, **you can tell the whole story with a taste’**.” 

Dr Chachki’s eyes lit up. “ **See that’s exactly what I mean** ,” they started talking with their hands. “ **I swear that as those flavors mixed and melted I could hear the sirens sing**.” Their hands crossed into Pearl’s space, but she didn’t mind. Dr Chachki didn’t force any touch to occur. “ **It was truly something special**.” They licked their lips gazing deep into Pearl’s eyes. “ **One taste and I want the whole thing**.” 

Pearl squeezed her thighs together. “I -- I don’t -- you can’t mean that.” Mister Charles’ earlier words echoed in her mind. _Springfield pie competition… about time you entered_ … 

Dr Chachki nodded violently. “Oh but I do,” they said. “ **I must say it felt like I was carried away. Intoxicated. Made me escape the room I was in**.” 

Pearl felt like she was going to melt. Their words were everything she’d always wanted to hear, all she hoped to achieve. More than anything she wanted to throw her arms around Dr Chachki and never let go. Yes, they were just words, but to Pearl they felt like bricks to build with. If Dr Chachki thought this, even if they were being poetic, the fact that they cared meant… that she was worthy of care. 

Then the doctor reached out with those steady hands, letting their palms just ghost over hers and she wanted to close that distance. They looked deep into her eyes and their breath smelled like pine and mint. “ **I can't help but wonder how your hands must have felt making that masterful thing**.” 

Pearl was unable to wipe away the smile that followed. She shook her head and looked up at Dr Chachki. “ **Just one bite caused all that wondering**.” 

There was a mechanical wheezing of a city bus approaching and Pearl felt the air go from her ego. This conversation wasn’t real. It was time to go back down to earth, to her husband, who still didn’t know she carried his child. 

Pearl swallowed and turned her face from the doctor. The married doctor who was entirely too nice for their own good. 

But as she sat alone on the bus headed for uptown, Pearl found her hands ghosting over each other, remembering the doctor's hands. 

**It only takes a taste when you know it's good**.  
**Sometimes one bite is more than enough**.  
**To know you want more of the thing you just got a taste of**.


	7. A Soft Place To Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a play to keep herself safe, Pearl confesses the truth to her husband. Kim does up Trixie’s makeup before her date with Katya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another with the domestic abuse. If You just skip to the *** you'll be safe. We get very fluffy afterward to make up for the angst at the beginning.

Pearl came home completely wiped. She never could put a finger on what made one day busier than any other, but today had really tested her endurance. In the back of her mind was a niggling worry that she was overworking herself, and exertion wasn’t good for…

The baby. Exertion wasn’t good for the baby. Pearl rested her head against the cold bus window. There was no running from it, or ignoring it to make it go away. She was having a baby, and that was that. No point in denying any longer. 

The bus pulled into her stop and Pearl wished she could just stay here. Maybe take a Greyhound to Springfield. 

She rose to her feet and started the walk home. Her arches and calves ached, her feet seemed to have swollen but she couldn’t very well afford new sneakers. Pearl plodded home with the gait of a woman utterly used up, the kind you wouldn’t even bother robbing because you knew she didn’t have anything left.

She heard the TV before she pulled her house key from her purse. The bite in the air that rushed out the front door stank of cigarettes and beer. Pearl took in a sharp breath and placed a hand on her hip, silently apologising to her baby before she made her way inside. 

“If it isn’t Miss Illinois!” Earl barked from the couch. 

Pearl winced at his loud voice. Hiding her face, she set her purse on a kitchen chair and planned to make a beeline for the bedroom. Her mattress called to her.

“Hold up, babe.” Earl had a long arm stretched over the side of the couch. If she tried to blow past him, it wouldn’t take much effort for him to reach out and grab her. She’d have to get up early tomorrow to plaster green eyeshadow and dollar store foundation over the dark marks Earl would leave. 

Pearl’s legs ached but she made her way over to Earl’s side. 

“Now where’s my kiss?” 

He smelled like beer and there was an ashtray by the side of the couch. She knew better than to ask why he’s started again, after the hell that was the Nicotine withdrawal year. The patches, the gum the helpline and the pills, none of which they could afford; but they also couldn’t afford the boxes and boxes of smokes Earl went through in a month. 

Pearl tried to look anywhere but that ashtray, knew that so much as a glance would set Earl off. _You’re judging me. Don’t question me. What right have you got?_ Pearl leaned over the back of the couch and pressed a quick and chaste kiss to Earl’s cheek. She hoped that would be enough, but of course it wasn’t.

His hand gripped Pearl by her waist and her upper arm and he pulled her into his lap. Pearl knew this game all to well. “Please, Earl, I’m really tired --”

Earl made a noise in the back of his throat. “You’re always so tired, maybe that job o’ yours isn’t so good for you.”

Pearl set her face like stone. Here he was again, trying to take away the one good thing in her life. He knew she cared about work, more than she cared about him. He knew the game and all the cards either player held, most of them his. He gripped his wife tight and prepared for the old dance. 

“Please, I really can’t tonight.” Pearl tried to pull away, but Earl held her tight.

“I was rememberin’ last week, you know, when you got that bright idea that you could be in charge.” 

Earl’s voice crept under Pearl’s skin. She felt sick, but not like her morning sickness at all. She kept her voice measured. “Let me go, Earl.”

“And it occurred to me that I never did put you back in your place.” His hands ventured where Pearl really didn’t want them to. She squeezed her legs shut as hard as she could and clenched her teeth. 

Earl breathed down her neck. “That place is beneath me.” His hand grabbed posessively at the front of her underwear. 

Pearl felt the desire to rise above her body and wait for it to be over, but something yanked her back. She found herself wriggling against his grasp, knowing Earl would overpower her easily, but she needed her point to get across. With her constant fidgeting, Earl had a hard time holding onto her. She felt the rage boiling inside Earl. His hand clamped down on her wrist and she knew she was headed to the floor in a matter of seconds so she pulled the last card in her hand. 

“I’M PREGNANT!”

Everything stopped. Pearl felt her heart beating straight out of her chest. Earl’s grip loosened around her wrist but he didn’t let go. Pearl felt her chest tighten up, her uniform straining against her breasts, her beaten-up T shirt bra struggling to contain her. Her top buttons had come loose in the commotion. Pearl felt her husband’s eyes on her. 

After a while, Earl let go of Pearl’s wrist with a shove. “Were you ever planning on tellin’ me?” His voice was low and accusatory, but the hostility was gone. 

Pearl relaxed a little and grabbed at her pony tail. “I was waiting for the right time?”

“Oh, and now’s the right fucking time?!” His voice rose, and Pearl couldn’t look at him.

“No,” Pearl responded honestly, staring into the floorboards. 

Seconds ticked by that felt like hours. The game still played on the TV but even Earl wasn’t watching. 

After a few more minutes he said in a tone that was somewhere between confused and amazed. “I’m gonna be a father.”

Pearl finally started feeling the crash from the adrenaline that had gotten her out of her husband’s clutches and made her way back around to the front of the couch, finally melting into the cushions.

If she were younger, she might let herself believe that becoming a father may change Earl, make him a better man. But Pearl knew better; she’d been trying to change her husband from the day they met, and that was the problem. She just couldn’t stop, though, could she?

***

After the last customer of the day left, the waitresses of Dave’s Diner were going about their duties to prepare the little place for another day. Pearl put her weight into the mop she leaned on, taking enough of a breather to talk to Kim.

“Earl knows.”

Kim paused wiping down a table to gawk at her coworker. Pearl had been quiet all day, so Kim kinda knew there was something going on. “Shit, how’d he find out?”

“I told him.” Pearl looked dog tired.

Kim dropped her washcloth on the table and took the extra three steps to stand toe-to-toe with Pearl. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from the woman’s face. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now,” she said in a low voice. “But this really will all turn out.”

Pearl was never much of a hugger -- Kim knew the girl to actually jump whenever Trixie would surprise Pearl by throwing her arms around the woman. She saw the panic in Pearl’s eyes whenever someone got too close. So when Pearl leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Kim’s wide shoulders and leaned her weight on the older waitress, Kim knew to hold her there for as long as she needed.

She would have too, if Davis hadn’t picked that exact moment to come back onto the floor. “The Sam Hill is going on in my establishment?! Did I start running a Care Bear convention on my piss break?” 

The man’s loud and grating voice spooked Pearl enough that she unlatched herself from Kim and went back about her chores. 

Just before opening, Pearl told Kim she wasn’t feeling so hot and that she’d be in the back, doing what she did best. Kim had thought the poor girl was looking paler than usual, but it also could have just been bad makeup. The only foundation Pearl owned was three shades lighter than her actual skin tone. Plus she was white -- they had all the tones one could possibly want or need and Pearl still managed to pick the wrong shade! 

As Kim went about at double speed, completing her own work and Pearl’s, she rehearsed all the witty things she’d say to Davis if he asked where Pearl was.

____

She caught up with her coworker when they were done cleaning up the diner. Usually the three of them counted their tips together in the back before going home. Curiously, Trixie was missing from the counting party, but she was not Kim’s top priority at the moment. 

Kim pulled up next to Pearl and pulled a stack of bills from her apron. She could tell the woman was nearing the end of her count and didn’t dare interrupt her and risk making the girl lose count. Kim started sorting out her stack into ones, fives and change.

Kim wasn’t especially friendly, so she was usually the first to complete her tip count. She didn’t have to worry so much about tips since her husband owned the joint. Usually Trixie was the big earner -- speaking of, where was that pink ball of anxiety?

Pearl huffed and slapped both her hands down on the table. Kim glanced up. Pearl seemed ready to shatter into little tiny pieces. “That bad?”

Pearl covered her face with her hands. “How can full-time work not produce a living wage? How is that legal?”

“Because America is held together by corporate greed and unempathetic conservativism.” Kim stacked her bills and fastened them with a rubber band. She hadn’t finished counting, but she didn’t have more than $30. 

Kim went about tidying up here and there, straightening up the spice rack. Pearl stayed contemplating her haul. “That simple, huh?” she muttered.

Kim hummed in response and a few moments of breathing quietly passed. Then Kim piped up. “Heeeyy, what’s this doin’ with the cumin?”

Pearl snapped to attention. Kim held Trixie’s baby book between two fingers and gazed at Pearl with one raised eyebrow. 

Pearl snatched at the book. “It’s none of your business--”

Kim pulled the book out of her coworker’s reach. “Pearl, you have _got_ to face your reality -- this baby is coming whether you’re ready or not.”

“I’ll _be_ ready,” said Pearl, snatching her book back and tucking it under her arm. “Not much running I can do anymore, now that Earl knows.”

Pearl was reminded of something her mother would say:

**When your breaking point’s all that you have** ,  
**A dream is a soft place to land**. 

Kim opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Trixie crashing through the door. “I am having a small anxiety attack,” she warbled. 

Kim swept around to pull Trixie by the waist over to the table she and Pearl had already been congregated around. “As long as you keep your head steady and your eyes dry I won’t have to hit you again.” She grabbed Trixie by the chin and whipped out a makeup bag from her purse. 

Pearl sat on the table next to Trixie, her legs facing the opposite direction. “Girl, I’m not even gonna ask what’s the issue now.” 

“I’m gonna die. I’m getting cold feet and my one chance at love is gonna get fed up with me after I blow her off -- it’s official I’m doomed to die alone.” 

Pearl had to stifle a chuckle. the things Trixie said when she was anxious frequently made her laugh. “Then don’t stand up this Zamawhata woman.” 

Trixie beat her heels against the side of the table. “Ohhhh I just feel like I’m gonna die you guys.” 

“Well don’t do that,” said Kim quietly as she brushed mascara onto the girl’s lashes. “My prints are all over your face and I can’t go back to prison.” 

Pearl and even Trixie couldn’t help but laugh. Kim chastised Trixie for moving and scrubbed her eyelid with a makeup wipe. 

“I didn’t know you had a record,” chuckled Pearl. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” said Kim, stone faced. She leaned back from her work. “What size lashes do you want?” She asked, popping open a small package. 

“Oh, I don’t want false lashes,” said Trixie. 

“So you want small lashes?” 

Pearl laughed again. Trixie knew better than to fight Kim, so she stayed still as she could and tried not to tear up at the sensation of plastic and glue applied to her lids. 

“Hey,” said Pearl, watching Kim paint Trixie like a canvas. “If you were gonna glue on lashes, why’d you put mascara on her?” 

Kim, again, was completely expressionless. “I just love getting black on my fingers.” She held up a hand streaked with clumpy black mascara. “Why do you think I married Davis?” 

They had to pause for the raucous laughter that overtook both Trixie and Pearl. 

Kim rolled her eyes. “Wish open mic night was such a kind audience.” 

Pearl swiped dampness from the edges of her eyes and Trixie resumed her status as an easel. 

“Wait wait,” said Pearl. “Two things: one, since when do you go to open mic nights and two, and this is a little more serious, why _did_ you marry Davis?” 

Kim shrugged in response to both questions. 

“Oh, I thought that was a joke,” said Trixie. “For real? You go to like, comedy clubs and stuff?” 

“Let’s get one thing straight, there are no comedy clubs around here -- believe me, I’ve looked.” Kim paused to focus on assessing the symmetry of her paint job before moving down to Trixie’s lips. “But once a month in the lounge at the Hyatt downtown they have a… thing. An open mic thing.” 

She pulled a handheld mirror from her makeup bag and presented it to Trixie to view her reflection. “And for your information,” she said to Pearl. “My marriage was an entirely strategic action based around getting what I wanted: security, both in employment and socially, and sex. Though we’ve kind of dropped the ball on that second one.” 

Kim shrugged and rested a hand on Trixie’s thigh. “Whaddya think, kid?” 

Trixie’s pink mouth rested open in a wide O, her newly defined eyebrows raised and her elongated lashes batted against her cheeks like butterfly wings. “Look at that,” she breathed. “ **You made me look almost pretty**.” 

“Almost?” Kim crossed her arms. “If you even _attempted_ this, you’d end up looking like a melted barbie doll. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Trixie laughed and nodded. “True.” she reached out her arms and was about to dive into Kim for a hug when the other stopped her. 

“Ah-ah. You’ll smear.” Kim patted her leg. “But really, what do you think?” 

Trixie looked at her friend and coworker with glistening eyes. She pressed her hands together. “Kim, this is the best my face has ever looked and you still kept it modest -- you can see my freckles. I don’t look too different. I love it.” 

On the opposite side of the room, a timer went off, and Pearl jumped into action. She’d almost forgotten she’d prepared a honey-lavender pie to see Trixie off with. Lavender, cause she knew that was supposed to be a gay flower, and honey, ‘cause it went well with lavender and also was supposed to be an aphrodisiac. 

Pearl pulled the hot tin out of the oven and set it on the counter to air-dry. She fanned it with oven mitts to help the pie cool more. “This is for you,” she said. “To go on your date. Mama always said the best way to make a first impression was with something sweet.” She looked back at Trixie, whose mouth was doing the O shape again. “Then, it’s not really a first impression, is it? Well, it won’t hurt.” 

Trixie slid off the table and made her way next to Pearl to stare at the pie. The crust was perfectly browned, golden and flaky-looking. A sweet and rich smell rose from the rising cuts in the puff-top. “Ohmygod,” Trixie breathed. “Is that some kind of flower?” 

Pearl paused fanning the pie and rubbed her arm across her sweaty forehead. “It’s honey lavender -- that’s probably what you’re smelling.” 

Pearl was alarmed to find herself trapped in one of Trixie’s infamous vice grip hugs. Pearl stiffened, then relaxed slightly. 

Kim snapped from five feet away. “Hey! Don’t smudge my masterpiece.” 

“I’m not!” whined Trixie. She squeezed Pearl a little harder before releasing her. Her piercing blue eyes sought out Pearl’s and looked deep into her coworkers soul. “You, are the most amazing friend I could ever wish for.” 

Pearl stiffened her lip and went back to fanning the pie. Her throat felt tight. Damn pregnancy hormones. 

“And you,” Trixie turned to Kim. She closed the space between the two of them and clasped Kim’s hands in her own. “You are the realest and most stable person -- I would be even more of a mess than I already am without you.” 

Kim looked away. She couldn’t quite take the kindness. 

Trixie wasn’t done. “I wouldn’t even be going on this date if it wasn’t for you two. Every happiness I ever have with this Katya person will be because of you.” 

“Uhm,” Kim said. 

Pearl stopped fanning. “Hey, now--” 

“My that reckoning we’ll also be responsible for any pain this Katya person should cause you.” Kim pointed out. 

Trixie smiled. “That’s right! If she breaks my heart, it’ll be all your faults!” 

Kim and Pearl locked eyes. 

Pearl scoffed. 

Kim shrugged. “I’ll take it. Pearl, if you wouldn’t mind setting up that pie in some carrying sleeve of something so it doesn’t burn through Miss Thing’s lap on our way to the aquarium that’d be great.” 

Pearl had the pie tin-foiled, packed, and ready to go in five minutes. Kim and Trixie were in the car in ten. As her friends and coworkers drove off, she suddenly remembered she had to make a phone call. 

“Dr Chachki? Hi, it’s Pearl Hunterson here, I just had a concern, ah, I’ve been experiencing some minor bleeding--” 

“Oh, I’ll want to see you in person.” 

Pearl’s heart dropped. It was just a question, nothing major, she’d thought. Maybe she was wrong -- the doctor sounded… intense? Worried? Anyway, they didn’t sound like they thought minor bleeding was… minor. “Um, okay when’s your nearest opening?” 

“Tomorrow,” the voice on the other side of the phone spat, swallowing the middle syllable in an effort to get their answer out as quickly as possible. 

Worry churned Pearl’s stomach. “Tomorrow?” she echoed. 

“Yeah, tomorrow -- come on in at seven am? Just tell Mara I’m expecting you.” 

Pearl’s heart sank further. She’d have to get up early and catch the bus… but if that’s what she needed to do. “Okay, see you tomorrow at seven.” Pearl was about to hang up when she realized a problem. “Wait a second-- I just remembered. It’s Saturday tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” said Dr Chachki on the other side of the line. “Right. Monday then. Same time and place.” 

“Okay then, thank you, Dr Chachki.” 

“Please, call me Violet.” 

Pearl didn’t even consider using it. “I’ll see you Monday, Dr Chachki.” 

“See you Monday.” 

Pearl couldn’t help noticing that Violet sounded disappointed.


	8. Cheer Up Trixie Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl and Kim catch up with Trixie after her date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no song in this chapter since its basically all made up by me and has nothing to do with the play or the movie but i’m having fun with this fic again so sue me.

The good thing about Earl knowing the truth about the baby was that now, Pearl didn’t have to sleep with him. The man thought differently of her now, not so much respect or genuine care about her health and well-being, Pearl thought it was more… discomfort. He didn’t really want to touch his wife anymore, now that he knew she was pregnant. Some men, Pearl knew, thought a pregnant woman a radiant pillar of health and sex appeal. Earl, on the other hand, treated her like she’d grown another head. Which, Pearl realized, she was in the process of doing.

She thought about this waiting for Kim to pick her up so they could go check on Trixie. The little thing had promised to give all details of her date after it took place, only for Kim to call half a dozen times and only receive one text back to say Trixie had gotten home safely. Nothing else. Pearl even tried their coworker that morning and got no answer -- not even a voicemail, which was odd. Trixie must have turned it off.

“This whole situation just smells bad,” remarked Kim from the driver's seat on their way downtown.

Pearl chewed her fingernail and hummed. “I just-- what could have happened that she wouldn’t just tell us? If it was awful, she’d tell us. Didn’t she call you one time when she stepped on a stray needle on the sidewalk?”

“Mhm. Thought it was a serial killer on the other side, breathing all ragged. Turned out it was just Trix hyperventilating ‘cause she thought she was gonna get AIDS from a discarded needle on the street.” Kim huffed and jerked a left turn, making Pearl’s stomach roll. “Sorry.”

Pearl swallowed hard and rolled down her window, the chill of the wind eased her. “‘S'alright,” she said. “And I can’t say I wouldn’t think the same thing in her situation... but I mean I’m pretty sure nobody’s ever gotten a disease that way -- not AIDS. Maybe tetanus.”

“See but that’s the thing with dear Beatrix,” said Kim, pulling up to a stoplight. “She doesn’t have that voice of reason in her head like we do. I don’t know, maybe she’s just too young, but either she never had any reason to begin with, or her nerves overpower what sense she does have.”

“Well, I think it’s that,” said Pearl. She rolled her window up. “Because in all fairness to her, Trixie does have sense. She knows her stuff, how to act and all. But Lord,” she sucked in breath through her teeth. “If anybody ever needed Xanax, it’s that one.”

Kim pulled off to a side street near their coworker’s apartment. Both women examined the curbside, looking for a parking spot.

“I suggested it once.” Kim’s voice came out almost a murmur for her concentration.

Pearl had lost track of the conversation in her search. “What?”

“Xanax,” said Kim matter-of factly. She pulled into a parallel parking spot like it was nothing. “Here we go.” The driver checked her makeup in her rearview mirror.

Pearl thought to herself how nice it was that Kim put in effort even when just visiting a friend. But as she craned her neck to see herself in the thin slice of glass, Pearl’s eyes clocked an odd patch on the side of Kim’s throat. Her slender fingers reached out to touch, and came away with an odd green-beige color.

“What the hell?” snapped Kim.

Pearl looked up. “Kim. Are you covering a hickey?”

“Wow. Rude.” Kim yanked her keys out of the ignition. Yanking her car door open, she scowled at Pearl. “For the record, I never once asked about _your_ weirdass bruises, no matter how bad you were at covering them.”

Pearl sat back against the seat, slack-jawed. Immediately, she felt bad about intruding. What was she thinking, just asking about something like that? And touching Kim without even asking! How dare she -- what kind of person does that sort of thing? Oh God, the kind of person like Earl. She’d been spending so many years with a person like that it was rubbing off on her! Surely she was no better than the husband she thought of as such a brute--

Kim pulled the door open on her side. “Haven’t got all day, sunshine,” she barked.

Pearl scrambled to her feet. “Sorry I--”

“Don’t wanna hear it.” Kim held up her hand, slammed the door shut, and locked the car.

Trixie looked like total shit. Her skin was washed out, a sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead, upper lip and neck. She smelled like a sick person and the bags under her eyes were especially bruiselike this morning.

“Damn, girl,” said Kim stepping inside. “I hope you got drunk last night.”

Trixie didn’t even have it in her to smile. She swallowed hard. “I wish I was hungover.”

Pearl invited the smelly girl in for a quick hug, during which she was careful not to breathe in. Her morning sickness had been getting better, but she wasn’t willing to test it like this.

Pearl had seen the inside of Trixie’s studio many times. It was just that -- a studio apartment, perfect for single living. Tiny, but then, Trixie was a tiny girl. There was the oversized bean bag couch that smelled like the side of the road she’d pulled it from. It sat in front of the TV that got exactly 7 channels, all public broadcast, as Trixie didn’t have a cable hookup or a television modern enough to handle streaming.

Kim kicked off her shoes purely out of habit before remembering that Trixie never cleaned her floors. Sliding her flats back on, Kim asked, “So. Do you wanna start with the date or why your phone stopped working?”

Trixie threw herself into the couch, making a flat _pop!_ sound. Pearl kneeled on the carpet next to the beanbag and gently petted her friend’s shoulders.

“The date,” Trixie croaked. “Was great,” she finished with a pout.

Pearl and Kim shared confused glances. “Well that’s… _good_ , right?”

“Trixie, I’m gonna level with you here,” said Kim. “I need you to start at the beginning and take us through _slowly_.”

The little blonde was still pouting. It looked so odd to Pearl. Trixie not in makeup, wearing only an oversized hoodie and underpants, unhappy. ‘Wilting’ was the word that came to mind.

“Okay,” she sighed.

“So I get there, Kim drops me off at the aquarium and there's just a bunch of kids running around and all the workers hate life because it’s an aquarium and it’s kids.

“But I see her clear as day smoking a cigarette by the side wall, and at first I want to run right back around and wave Kim down because I didn’t know she was a smoker and lung cancer isn’t cute but then I think like, even if I waved her down Kim would make me go through with this and she did up my face all nice so I walk up to her.

“And I’m walking up to her carrying Pearl’s pie and she’s watching me get closer and it’s this weird… good… feeling of being watched but not in a scary way, like kinda creepy but she smiled at me and stubbed her cigarette out which I appreciated ‘cause I think she saw it in my face.

“Anyway I get up to her and I say ‘y’know those things will kill you’ and she kinda laughs and says like she’s made way worse decisions than smoking tobacco and if that’s the thing that kills her she’s lucky, and I kinda smile even though like, I didn’t get it at the time but I do now -- but I’ll get to that later.

“She points to the pie even though she can’t see it’s pie exactly. I tell her what it is and her eyes light up a little and it kinda makes me happy and a little sad, because Pearl, you’re so good at putting smiles on peoples’ faces even when you aren’t really there, and that’s kind of a lot to try and compete with in my own head.

“But she walks me over to her car -- she has a nice car, you guys. It’s red and a convertible with beige cloth interior so it doesn’t get too hot inside and those cheesy fluffy dice and an air freshener hanging from the window. The air freshener couldn't do that good of a job because yeah it smelled like cigarettes and I think weed too but at least she was trying, y’know?

“Anyway, on our way back from her car  she asks if I had safe travels and whatnot, how the diner was that day, as we’re going into the welcome… part… the check-in place. And the lobby has a bunch of like, fish facts and Katya reads one aloud” Trixie started to crack up. “--and, and but she does it in this weird old person voice?”

“--this voice that’s also like, young and creepy and oh, okay you had to… hear it I can’t replicate it, it’s that good.

“And then I respond with a fish fact that I know that I think she might enjoy--”

“Is it the gay dolphin one?” Pearl asked out of turn. Kim shot her a look for distracting Trixie when she was on a roll actually talking about stuff.

Trixie rested her head on top of her fist. “That was one of them. There was also the octopus thing and the starfish mouth-butthole thing. But she really enjoyed the underwater volcanoes fact.”

“That the tallest volcano is actually underwater?” Pearl asked.

“Well it’s actually that the tallest volcano is _mostly_ underwater and that if you measure it from the base -- which is underwater -- all the way to the top it’s taller than Mt Everest.

“But anyway, I’m spitting out useless facts about marine life and there’s this quiet and she’s fully looking off into space and I think I’ve bored her and she’s thinking of escape strategies. But instead, out of the blue she pulls out ‘we know more about the crab nebula than we do about our own planet.’ And I’m like yeah and she’s like cause the ocean is largely unexplored and I’m like yeah its wild and before I know it she’d grabbed my wrist which I’m not mad about and she’s putting a wristband on me because we made it all the way to the front desk without me noticing and I’m about to like, be upset that I didn’t get a chance to pay and I know that wristband is more than a day pass -- like it’s expensive and stuff and I’m saying that to Katya and she says it’s fine, that she gets the friends and family discount and has to use it or she’ll lose her discount so I don’t feel so bad.

“We move on and you look for the camouflaged octopus in the tank and Katya found him ‘cause he was under a rock and I joked that he’s me, like hiding from people just trying to blend in and it was supposed to be relatable and funny but she comes in with a line and I can’t remember what it was but it was smooth as hell and I just stare at her and she breaks down wheezing and cackling, like, full body flailing at my reaction” Again she was laughing “So of course I start laughing too and…” She sighed.

“We petted stingrays and our hands touched and then!” Trixie sat straight up, light flowing back into her eyes as she relived the memory. “There was this handler with a curled-up snake in her hands, and she asked a kid if they wanted to hold the snake and they said no ‘cause it’s a fucking snake no shit BUT! _Katya_ walks right on over, cups her hands and says she’ll have a go.

“Bitch held that snake and let the kids pet it and I touched it and she was so chill about it” Trixie let out a fit of giggles. “But she was pretty ready for hand sanitizer after that.”

“Uhhhh, what else, um, we pet the stingrays which I said before... other than that they had the terrifying fish that eat fruit and have human teeth.

“I mean there was a lot of just calmly standing and watching fish, watching turtles… and by the end I don’t really wanna be done so we hang out on a bench and talk a lot. And I just feel so comfortable and I made her laugh and she made me laugh…” Trixie’s face fell.

“Then she gets all serious. Is like ‘I usually say this immediately on a first date’ and my stomach flutters because she said date and like I was thinking maybe she’s thinking it’s a friendly trip to the aquarium between pals, but she did think it was a date so it was good. And anyway she comes out and says ‘I only smoke cigarettes, I don’t drink because I’m an alcoholic and a drug addict’.”

Pearl and Kim made sounds in their throats that couldn’t be quite pinned down as either judging or sympathetic.

“Yeah,” continued Trixie in staccato. “And I’m just sitting there shocked and like I don’t know what to think and she asks if I want to know how long she’s been clean for and I nod because I can’t think and she says ten months which is a long time. Like, my mother and brother never made it that far while I was living at home.”

Trixie looked down at her hands. There was an untouched sadness on her tired face.  “So then she starts just… deflating? Like her shoulders go down and she rests her elbows on her thighs and she goes ‘if you want nothing to do with me now that you know, you are welcome to’... you know. And that it wouldn’t make me a bad person.

“And I stayed sitting there and sitting and staring into the concrete and at some point Katya asks if I want her to go and I say no because I’m trying to think but I can’t and I know I need time. Which is weird, because immediately after I think ‘I need’ she’s like ‘what do you need’.” The blonde gave a said chuckle.

“I say I need time to process, and I see in her eyes that she’s heard that before but I really want her to know, like, so bad that I’m actually, _really_ thinking about it even though I can’t think. And I need a way to show her I’m serious about thinking about it so…” Trixie’s face went red. “I kissed her.”

Pearl and Kim sucked in so much air it was surprising the apartment didn’t crumble from the pressure change.

“Beatrix Mattel!” exclaimed Kim.

Trixie curled into herself, pulling her hood up around her face.

Pearl reached over and petted Trixie’s shoulder gently. “We didn’t think you were capable of it!”

“Kissing on the first date,” said Kim with mock judgement. “Slut.”

Trixie couldn’t help it -- she started to break down laughing.

“Well, how was it?” Pearl was giddy like a schoolgirl at hearing all about Trixie’s date and the kiss -- which may very well have been Trixie’s first _ever_ kiss.

Trixie pulled the hood off, revealing greasy blonde hair, bedraggled and worried through. “It was only a few seconds. And even though it had been well over an hour I could still taste the cigarette and I kinda wanted to puke. I totally would have if it had been open-mouth. But as it was,” she shrugged and looked away. “I’m not saying I _wouldn’t_ do it again if the opportunity presented itself. And she chewed some gum in between.”

Pearl watched Kim’s lips pull up into a smile. As much as the woman wanted to present herself as a cynic, Trixie’s glee was contagious.

A few seconds of pleased silence passed before Kim spoke up again. “Let me ask you a very fair question.”

Trixie looked up.

“Why, if the date was that good, are you so wrecked about it?” She motioned to Trixie’s overall appearance.

Trixie sighed. “It’s just… so much about it was new and unfamiliar, and uncomfortable but I don’t regret it and that… scares me. And I just-- I kept spiraling and it was late and I was tired and I just started spiraling.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” asked Kim softly. She let out a shallow, humorless chuckle. “I’m usually the one who stops your spirals for Pete’s sake.”

“I almost did so many times,” said Trixie, all in one breath. Already the calm and pleased atmosphere of before had ended. Pearl and Kim could feel, rather than see, Trixie’s anxiety pull into gear again. “You have no idea how many times I picked up that phone, and how many times I got half the numbers plugged in, or all of them, and never hit call because I know you had a date too. And I didn’t want to bother you.”

Pearl’s ears perked up. Her eyes flickered to Kim, who refused to meet her gaze, instead focusing intently on Trixie’s body language. She had seen Kim do that before, gauge how bad Trixie was getting based on how she held her arms, clenched her fists, her shoulders, curled her legs over and over herself as if she had to pee. Kim offered her hand to Trixie. Trixie took it and seemed to settle a little, running her thumb down Kim’s hand to ground herself, focusing on this touch.

Trixie didn’t say anything else. Pearl started getting antsy; her feet were going to sleep from sitting on top of them. She scanned Trixie’s kitchenette from across the room. There was a mostly-empty bag of mini marshmallows clothespinned shut on the counter.

There was a chuckle from next to her. “Do you want to snoop around my kitchen?” asked Trixie with a tired smile.

“Oh yes, thank you.” Pearl shot up, which turned out to be a bad idea because of her lower legs falling asleep. She toppled to one side before catching herself.

Kim raised her eyebrows. “You okay there, Pearl?”

“Yeah,” said Pearl, uncertain.

“‘Cause one bad stumble…” Kim warned.

A chill ran down Pearl’s spine. Again she remembered Dr Chachkis insistence on Pearl coming in for her spotting. Maybe it really was bigger than she thought… but if it was that serious they would have told her to go to the E.R. right?

She shook her head. Mini marshmallows. Pearl started out in the kitchen.

Trixie’s drawers were mostly for junk. Post-its, batteries, old geometry sets. “Hey, Trix? You plannin’ on calculating angles of isosceles triangles anytime soon?”

“No?”

“Then can I get rid of this protractor? On account of it’s in the drawer you have nicely labeled as ‘knives’?”

Trixie winced. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

“And just out of curiosity, where are your knives? Since they are not in the drawer labeled ‘knives’.”

Kim covered a laugh with a fake cough, earning her a dirty glare from Trixie. “Um, I think they’re in the freezer.”

Pearl made a noise in the back of her throat at the thought of a perfectly good knife wasting away in a freezer. When she had rescued the tools and returned them to their labeled drawer, she asked Trixie, “Why on Earth were your knives in the fridge?”

Trixie exhaled hard and closed her eyes. “I don’t trust myself when I get like I got last night. I’m completely out of control -- it’s just…” her voice got quiet and Pearl felt her soul sag in empathy. “Precautions,” Trixie finished.

Pearl didn’t ask Trixie about her organization system anymore. She hummed as she took inventory of cabinets and the fridge. Nearby, Trixie and Kim were having a whispered conversation, and Pearl knew better than to snoop. Those two just had something together. Pearl had something with baking, and that was her companion.

Out of the single poptart, multiple bags of travel peanuts, box of expired cereal, dusty canned corn and unopened alcohol in the cabinet, Pearl tried to pick out what she could do something with. The majority of these ideas were squashed upon opening the fridge, only to find coffee creamer, chocolate sauce, and a large collection of TV dinners. _At least the TV dinners come with a vegetable_ , thought Pearl.

She spent a good ten minutes running through a mental rolodex of recipes, tossing out idea after idea because Trixie had no flour, no eggs, no equipment…

“I got it!” Pearl clapped her hands together in delight. She spun to see her friends break from their hushed conversation. Pearl held out her hands victoriously. “Rice Krispy Treats,” she proclaimed.

One of Trixie’s brows arched. “W… what about them?”

Pearl cheerfully stepped back into the living area and extended her hands to Trixie to help her off the floor. “Whenever me or Mama was sick, we’d sleep all day to get our strength up, but to make sure we still got something done, we made rice krispy treats. They’re so simple, all you need is three ingredients.” Pearl led Trixie over to the kitchen sink (which also happened to be the studio’s ONLY sink). “Go on, wash up. Let’s put those worried hands to good use.”

Trixie mumbled a little about it being no use, but the cool water washing over her oily hands calmed her, even a little bit. Pearl pulled a container of butter out of the fridge and plopped it down on the counter. “Mostly empty,” she acknowledged. “But still usable for what we need it for. Kim, you wanna pop that sucker in a bowl and get it heated in the microwave long enough to be half-melted.”

Pearl could hear her friend’s eyeroll. “Yes, ma’am. But are you aware that this cereal you have out is expired?”

“No it’s not,” both Pearl and Trixie responded robotically.

Kim grabbed a butter knife from the freezer and pointed to ‘SELL BY’ on the brightly colored cereal box, and the date indicated.

“Sell by dates and expiration dates are not the same thing,” said Pearl. “The sell by dates are for stores, and if somethin’ doesn’t get picked up by that date, they aren’t legally allowed to sell it. But they can and do give it away. Not the stuff that expires, like butter for example. But cereal? Crackers? Those don’t actually expire for a long time. They stay fresh pretty much as long as they’re sealed.”

With that, Pearl handed Kim a plastic Disney Princess bowl, inside of which the baking queen had dumped two tablespoons of butter and most of the remaining mini-marshmallows. They clung together like they knew what was coming.

“Pop this in the microwave,” directed Pearl.

Kim took an extra breath in and shot a mischievous glance at Trixie, making her smile the tiniest bit.

‘Mallows melted, next Pearl had Trixie gather dry cereal in a saucepan so they could add the melted fluff to the mixture. Once it had cooled, Pearl let Trixie go in and mix with her hands. She was reminded of how she would be allowed to bake by herself on days when Mama wasn’t feeling well. She was only allowed to make jello and rice krispy treats, as neither of those involved the stove. Pearl always elected for rice krispies -- then she could lick her fingers after mixing and nobody could tell her no.

Trixie managed to get her whole forearms covered in marshmallow fluff. While Kim hauled the girl into the bathroom to clean up, Pearl set the mixture on a neglected cookie tray. Sliding the tray into the fridge, Pearl thought it didn’t seem so depressingly empty anymore.

Kim managed to convince Trixie to take a shower while they were in the business of cleaning her up. Trixie insisted she didn’t have the strength to wash her hair, and her friend rolled her eyes but relented. “You’re letting me wash it in the sink, then,” insisted Kim. “Because you work tomorrow and no employee of mine is coming to work with hair that greasy.”

“Okay fine,” said Trixie. “But Kim, if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Say no more, I’ll stay right here and watch the clock.”

Trixie sighed her thanks.

No more than twenty minutes later, Trixie followed Kim out of the bathroom looking absolutely radiant. Her sallow skin pinked after her shower. Her face was clean of remnants of makeup, and she seemed all-around more alive than she had been when Pearl and Kim first arrived at her apartment.

Although watching Trixie get her hair washed in the tiny sink was about as comfortable as watching a kid at the dentist, Pearl stayed right by her side. She tried to think of things to get Trixie’s mind off the brutal tugging at her scalp and how her neck was getting rubbed into the corner of the countertop. Pearl managed to get Trixie to talk about some kind of computer game she enjoyed. Trixie managed to prattle on about it for a while, and based on her reactions to Pearl, the older was doing a decent job of pretending to be interested.

“Well,” Kim declared after a while. “That’s about as good as we’re gonna get today I think.” Relief washed over Trixie, but Kim clamped a hand down on her collarbone. “Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere without a towel -- Pearl, would you mind?”

She didn’t mind, and soon after the three had returned to the ‘living’ area, seated hip-by-hip in front of Trixie’s sad excuse of a television. Trixie rested her turban against Pearl’s head and took Kim’s hand in her own. “Thank you two so much,” she said. “For coming over, for taking care of me -- I really don’t know what I did to deserve such great friends.”

“You _are_ a great friend, that’s what,” said Pearl.

Trixie blushed.

“Ugh,” Kim moaned. “Don’t go getting all mushy you two.”

Trixie and Pearl burst out laughing.

“I’m serious,” said Kim. “My car is outside -- I can leave.”

Trixie stuck her finger to Kim’s cheek and pushed in -- forcing her to smile. “Come on, you love me.”

“I might want a divorce,” Kim said.

Trixie, giggling, wound her arms around Kim’s neck, holding her friend extra tight and rubbing her clean cheek against Kim’s. “Hey, don’t do that -- you’ll get my makeup on you.”

Pearl stood up from the edge of the beanbag couch and took a deep breath to calm herself after that laughter. On her way to the bathroom, she couldn’t help but overhear Trixie giggle and tease Kim, slightly quieter than she had been. “Yeah right, I’m not the only one with your makeup rubbed off on them.”

Pearl shut the door behind her and looked at her reflection in the mirror. _It’s none of my business. Kim is touchy about the subject and it’s none of my business anyway_.

Sitting down and looking into her underpants, Pearl couldn’t help but notice a fresh red-brown stain. Again her stomach twisted with the memory of Dr Chachki’s insistence on seeing her in person…

Stepping out of the bathroom with a fresh smile painted over her face, Pearl addressed her friends. “Think those rice krispies have had enough time to cool now.”

Trixie sat up straight at the mention of sweets.

Pearl smiled and looked down on the girl. Her head towel flopped behind her, coming undone. “I was thinking we could use some of that chocolate sauce you’ve got in the fridge to do some decorating,” said Pearl. “Whaddya say?”

Trixie clapped her hands together. “I say chocolate makes everything better!”

Kim regarded an empty corner of the room. “It _sure_ does.”

 


	9. Never Getting Rid of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya shows up to the diner Monday to apologize to Trixie, and say she won’t be coming back, as a way of giving Trixie space. Trixie, strengthened by the love her friends showed her, has a different idea, and gives her date a piece of her mind in a character-swapped rendition of ‘Never Getting Rid of Me’. Pearl watches with Kim from behind the counter, and the beginnings of a Bad Idea make themselves in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i go through periods of like, always having something to submit, but in between that time is months of me hammering away at like 7 projects at once. Again, Waitress has become fun. The Pearlet isn’t done with, in fact anyone familiar with the show knows what’s coming right up next after this chapter. (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 Pearl kept obsessing about the spotting and Dr Chachki. She knew it was bad to worry, especially with the baby, but what if she really was losing it? So far this baby was the only thing keeping Earl from hitting her anymore -- she wasn’t ready to give up that safety blanket. She started daydreaming up ways to fake a pregnancy -- eventually he would find out, that’s true, but if she could only fake it until Springfield, not even first prize, there were lower prizes, a small amount of money would do. Running would be a whole lot easier without being massively pregnant, or with a baby on her back like Sacagawea.

Pearl’s head was in the clouds, imagining herself at the driver's seat of a black convertible, the top down, wind blowing through her hair, driving down one of those landscapes where the road is the only thing that cut the natural world in half -- until Kim’s voice woke her to reality.

“True love approaches,” hummed her fellow waitress.

Pearl’s eyes navigated to the front door. The bell chimed, and in walked Trixie’s previous secret admirer and current romantic interest, Katya.

“Gawd, Kim, you’re the worst,” chided Trixie, a giant smile on her face.

She rounded the counter and bounced up to where Katya waited at the front. “Well hey there,” she greeted in a sugar-sweet tone. Out of formality, she picked up a laminated menu. “Would your fine self prefer a booth or a table?”

“Ah, neither, actually, I won’t be coming back here again.”

Trixie’s face fell. Previously standing flirtatiously on her toes, her heels returned to the tile. “What?” she breathed, setting the menu on a table to keep herself from dropping it. She leaned against the side of a booth to keep herself steady.

Katya’s brows knitted together. She stared, at everything, her eyes everywhere but the waitress who had put on special Berry Pink lipstick today.

“Yeah, so it was just, a bad idea to try and…” Katya motioned with her hand. “So, um, I just wanted to say, to clarify, that uh… this was a mistake.”

Now Katya met Trixie’s eye. And what she found in those fierce teal-blue eyes was not satisfaction or relief, as she had anticipated. She found determination. More than that…

Trixie was _pissed off._

“You know what, Katya? No.” Rising to her full height, widening her stance, Trixie looked Katya straight in her eyes and, for once, didn’t shut down or shy away from what she was feeling. She let this… whatever it was, she let it drive her words home. And the more she talked, the more she saw how her words affected Katya. And she wanted it to hurt.

“No. You heard right. No. No, no. You do not get to show up here, week after week, leave me cute little notes, buy me sneakers, pretend you _care_ , take me on the first date I’ve literally EVER been asked on _in my life_! And show up at my place of work 36 hours later and decide that all of it-- ALL OF IT, was a mistake. No.”

Katya shrunk away. Though Trixie had her back turned to them and couldn't see, the entire diner had shifted their attention to the commotion up front. And Trixie was plenty loud for even Davis to hear in the kitchen. The hot-tempered owner found himself too timid to move or attempt to quiet the waitress. No one had ever seen such an outburst from her. Now that she’d broken, it was terrifying.

“I’m, sorry…” Katya could only whisper in the face of a roaring, pink-lipped dragon.

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Trixie railed. “I’m sorry that my friend did me up in nice makeup for you. I’m sorry that I had the best couple of hours of the past I don’t know how many years -- I’m sorry I enjoyed so much time with you. I’m sorry you made me laugh until I hurt. I’m sorry that you found me funny enough to clutch the wall, laughing until you were blue in the face. I’m sorry you sat me down on a cement bench outside after the date, and told me something incredibly important about yourself. I’m sorry you pretended to care about me enough to give me a heads up about your vices, and to tell me how long you’d been sober. And I’m sorry I sat there for half an hour in silence next to you reevaluating my core values because, funnily enough, I liked you _so goddamn much_.”

Trixie was spitting, her eyes were watering. Her voice buzzed off of the metal tables and she didn’t care.

Katya reached out a timid hand. “Trixie…”

The waitress backed away. Katya could no doubt hear the tears in her voice, but so help her Trixie was not going to cry in front of her. Her volume fell, along with her fury. “I… I spent. Thirty hours. The whole night, after our date, the whole day after, the better part of the morning after that… spiraling and consumed. Because of you. I… _tortured_ myself. I worried and panicked myself to the point I was horizontal on my shower floor, throwing up into the _drain_.”

She turned around. Katya had slunk into a low squat, sat on her heels. Her eyes glistened. Her face was white as a sheet. She clasped a hand over her mouth.

Trixie stood over her and folded her arms tightly in front of her chest. “You’re not allowed to back out when I’ve invested so much time in, and come out of a damn _episode_ , ‘crisis’ what have you, when those two amazing women—“ she pointed back at the counter. “When they pulled me out of my funk, I came out the other end having made a decision.”

Trixie reached down and guided Katya’s chin up. “I decided, I’d rather have you. I decided I was gonna keep going. Against everything I’m terrified of, I. Chose. You.”

She let go of Katya’s chin and stepped back. “So I’m sorry. I’m not letting you bail. I’m not letting you leave. And I’m stubborn as hell, so when I decided I wanted to see this thing through with us, I’m not letting you go just cause you… decided, heh, that it was a mistake. Because I don’t believe that.”

Having blown herself out, Trixie fell silent. The diner erupted into a smattering of applause. At the counter, Kim ended the video recording on her phone.

Pearl picked up a fresh tray from the window. On her way out from behind the counter, Pearl whispered, “Email that to me.”

“You got it,” smiled Kim.

Back at the front, Trixie sat on the floor, clutching her knees. Her body faced Katya, but she tucked her face to one side, sniffling.

Katya knelt, reached out, but didn’t quite touch the waitress. “Trixie,” she hummed. “I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “It wasn’t a mistake. It never was.”

Trixie looked up. She stared at Katya’s outstretched hand. She didn't know if she wanted to take it anymore.

“I’m so sorry, I thought…” Katya swallowed. “I thought I’d ah, spare you the… y’know, if I ended it first.”

Trixie wiped a tear away and rested her chin on her knees. “Wrong.”

Katya looked up, confused. “What?”

Trixie let go of her legs, resting her arms on top of her knees. Now she took the tips of Katya’s fingers between her hands. “You weren’t letting me down easy, or releasing me from having to tell you to get lost. You were protecting yourself. From rejection.”

Katya examined the tiles. “I didn't… think about it like that. But it’s probably that too.”

Trixie nodded. “I know about protecting yourself from emotions. I do it a lot.” She looked down. “Or I did. Until you.”

A few seconds passed. Then Katya started chuckling, cackling, losing her shit.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“We—“ Katya wheezed. “We— we’re perfect for each other!” She flopped her hands like a seal and stomped her toes. “I’m an addictive mess! You're anxiety personified! Ha-haa!”

Trixie couldn’t help the smile that rose to her face. She shook her head. “I think we need a do-over,” she said, rising to her feet once again. Katya followed suit. Trixie took a cleansing deep breath and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m the human embodiment of generalized anxiety, Trixie Mattel.”

Katya cackled and rocked on her heels before taking Trixie’s hand and shaking it. “And I’m a presumptive, neurotic asshole. Katya.”

Trixie let out a laugh. “Nice to see you again Katya. I enjoyed our date last Friday very much.”

Katya folded her hands together and twiddled her thumbs, nervous to be so open. “I’m happy to hear that, Trixie. I enjoyed our time together very much too. Can I interest you in dinner sometime this week?”

Trixie swallowed down nerves, but her cheer had returned. “I’ll need 24 hours at the least to prepare myself mentally, and I get off at four, but I have closing shift tomorrow so it’s more like four forty-five which is more like five,” she laughed at herself.

Katya smiled. “I’ll be by here tomorrow at five then to pick you up?”

Trixie couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. “It’s a date.”

“Great,” breathed Katya. “Before I head out -- because I do have somewhere to be,” she opened her arms. “Would you be open to a hug to clear away any remaining tension?”

Trixie wanted to cry again, but in the best way. “Of course.” She stepped into Katya’s embrace, wrapping her arms around Katya’s middle and tucking her chin over the other woman’s shoulder. Katya’s arms wrapped around her back, and Trixie felt Katya’s cold nose poke at the back of her neck. After the first few seconds, tension rolled off of them both. To Trixie it felt like the relief of a first spring rain.

When she released her hold on Katya, Trixie caught her by the hand. “You don’t smell so much like cigarette smoke,” she said.

Katya tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been trying. For you.” Trixie lit up. “The weekend was too hard but I haven’t had one today or most of yesterday--”

Trixie, overcome with excitement, grabbed Katya by the shoulders and pressed their lips together. Katya let out a squeal, but held Trixie’s lower back, keeping her there.

Trixie pulled away and giggled at the sight of her lipstick smudged on Katya’s. Katya at the same time laughed at a smear of red on Trixie’s lips. “Well,” Katya laughed. “I mean it’s a pretty good motivator to quit smoking, if nothing else.”

Trixie erupted into a fit of giggles, her face growing red. She felt like her insides were full of helium balloons. “When I remember our first kiss,” she said. “I want to remember that one.”

“Aw, come on,” said Katya. “The last one wasn’t good?”

Trixie shrugged. “It was romantic sure, but it felt like I was kissing an ashtray.”

Katya’s mouth dropped open and she play-swatted Trixie’s arm as the pink-lipped waitress laughed.

From the back, Davis finally regained his usual blow-hard manager attitude. “Hey, love birds! Either buy something’ or get lost! You’re monopolizing the help!”

Trixie and Katya laughed. Katya grabbed the doorknob. “I’m going, I’m going!” she called back. But she leaned toward Trixie and cartoonishly puckered her lips. “Just one for the road, Mama, will you?”

Trixie folded her arms across her chest and popped her hip. “Uh-uh,” she chirped.

Katya pouted.

Trixie caved. “Ah, well.” She gave Katya a conservative peck before high-tailing her way back to the counter.

Before the door shut behind Trixie’s gentlewoman caller, Pearl playfully yelled, “Come back soon!”

On the other side of the window, they saw Katya turn back, shoot a finger gun their way, and wink.

_____

Pearl didn’t have time to bake anything for Doctor Chachki before she headed out from work. It’s as if the whole town knew about the drama that went on that morning, and had shown up at the diner in the hopes that they would get to see a free show for themselves. Nothing exciting followed after Trixie’s southern gothic melodrama, besides the sudden influx of customers.

When they counted up their tips at the end of the day, Pearl couldn’t help that bubbling jealousy that rose up when she watched Trixie count hers. Thankfully the other blonde had the good sense to count quietly, as her stacks were frankly ridiculous. It’s not like Pearl could even blame the patrons for tipping especially high -- Trixie was _glowing_.

 _I’m pregnant_ , thought Pearl. _Aren’t I glowing? Don’t I need the money more?_

In addition to that, Pearl couldn’t stop thinking about Trixie and Katya, how they were both so afraid, but went ahead anyway with what was between them… Her mind kept calling upon the memory, soft like a butterfly’s wing, Dr Chachki’s hands ghosting over hers. Their mouth spilling over with compliments. Their eyes… _really_ seeing her. She felt a phantom tug in her belly that she suspected had little to do with the baby swimming around there.

Stepping onto the bus that would bring her into town, she whispered softly, “Oh what am I going to do with you?”

She didn’t know if she was talking about the baby or the doctor.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shhhhh theres no such thing as continuity errors, shhhhh Pearl’s appointment is Monday evening, not morning, you silly goose.


	10. Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motivated by Trixie standing up for her own happiness, Pearl goes to her appointment with Dr Chachki. Everything comes to a head when it is revealed that Chachki has feelings for her as well.

On the bus headed for downtown, Pearl watched droplets of rain tumble down the window. They join together, grow heavy and fall into cracks. She rests a hand on her stomach. She’s not supposed to start really showing for a little while, but that didn’t mean her body wasn’t changing. Her reflection in the window was more tired, under eyes darker and puffier than usual. Her skin had broken out across her left cheek and chin. She had a zit on her hairline that smarted every time she brushed her hair back to redo her ponytail for work. Not to mention her shoes were getting tighter and so were her underthings. She hated the way her panties bit into her swollen flesh, and how her bra struggled to contain her breasts, which grew more sensitive and heavy and… just more voluminous by the day.

There were a host of things she wanted to ask the doctor. If it was normal to not feel connected to her baby, if it was okay that she hadn’t given a thought to name or gender. That she wasn’t excited to meet this new creature or see it on an ultrasound. Was she being punished for her apathy with possibly losing the baby before she could get a chance to love it? And there was the planning of faking it again, of telling Earl nothing, of stuffing shirts.

Where Pearl got off, it had stopped raining. Still, her work shoes did little protecting her feet from the wet cement. Pearl wished she had a partner like Katya who just _noticed_ things she needed and gave them to her unprompted. She wished she had a partner who gave her things period…  other than more problems.

Just like last time, Pearl was scheduled absolutely last. Mara in the front was cleaning up the front office window when Pearl stopped in. Her sweet smile steadied some of Pearl’s anxieties. “Doc’s waiting for you in their office, Pearl,” she said, scrolling back the window.

Pearl felt a warmth in her chest at the knowledge that Dr Chachki’s secretary had bothered to remember her first name. And she was thankful to not be connected to her husband by being called Mrs Hunterson again. “Where is that exactly?” asked Pearl. “Their office, I mean. I’ve… only ever been in an exam room.”

Mara told her where, and Pearl made sure to thank the woman generously. She found a chestnut wood door at the end of the hall with a gold plaque set at eye level. Written on it in tall black type was “J. V. CHACHKI, MD,  OB & GYN.”

Pearl swallowed dryly and brought herself to knock just hard enough to be sure she would be heard. She expected to hear a muffled ‘come in’, but instead, the door swung all the way open, and Pearl was suddenly a breath away from the figure that had been haunting her day and nighttime fantasies. “Oh,” she breathed, a startled blush rising to her cheeks.

“Good to see you,” said Dr Chachki, stepping aside to usher Pearl into their office. There was no exam chair in here, and Pearl let out a sigh of relief at the notion that she could do this appointment fully clothed.

Chachki sensed her relief. They closed the door gently behind them both and said, “I mean I could always take you into an exam room, if you’re eager to get your feet back in those stirrups.”

Pearl chuckled uncomfortably. “No, thank you.” She resituated her bag on her shoulder and reached for the box that had been sitting on top of her thin wallet since she left Dave’s Diner.

Dr Chachki rounded a heavy-looking wooden table to sit in a swiveling desk chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Pearl set a hand on the back of a less-comfortable looking office chair. She held out the box. “I grabbed you the last slice,” she said. Her heart soared when she saw Chachki’s face light up in anticipation.

They reached into a drawer and pulled out a holiday-themed napkin and plastic cutlery. Pearl let out a giggle remembering eating meringue with those medical tools last time. “You’re prepared.”

“Always.”

Pearl felt the need to hide behind her hair from the way Dr Chachki was looking at her. When they were together, Pearl always felt like the only person in the world. “Ah, so, uhm,” she tried.

Dr Chachki handed her a plastic fork and knife. They took the first bite of the flakey crust boysenberry pie slice in front of them and made a face that reminded Pearl of--

She shook that from her mind and took her fork down the side of the slice. Chachki’s eyes reopened and there seemed to be fireworks happening just inside of their pupils.

Pearl smiled. “How’s it taste?”

“Like beauty.”

Pearl nearly spat out the bite she’d taken. Chachki had said that with such honesty! Not ironically or jokingly at al!

From across the table, Dr Chachki had reached out their hand. “No I’m serious!”

Pearl smilingly shook her head and wagged her finger at them. “You’ve showered me in compliments enough already.”

“Well, I can’t help it!” they defended. “I have to give you enough compliments to last you the winter!”

“It’s May.”

Dr Chachki threw out their arms to the sides. “Might as well start early!”

Pearl was laughing hard enough to realize she hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time. Especially not without Kim and Trixie by her sides. She sometimes believed she only had personality because of her friends, but talking with Chachki showed her maybe that wasn’t the case all the time. Come to think of it, they had asked her to call them Violet back at the bus stop hadn’t they? Maybe she should try.

“Violet -- can I call you Violet?” They nodded. Pearl continued: “I did come here for a reason.”

“Ah yes,” said Violet, seeming to shake themself back into a more professional mood. “You had a concern?”

Pearl stared into the flaking crust of the pie. “Yeah. So I’ve been having this spotty bleeding and a little cramping? Recently?” She felt silly saying it now. She wanted to apologise. “It’s not a super big deal, I think, and I am _so_ sorry to bother you but--”

“No, bother me!” assured Violet. They reached out their hand to hover over Pearl’s on the table. Instinctively, she flinched back against the sudden movement. Violet softened, and kept their hand, which Pearl knew was soft yet strong, a breath away from Pearl’s own skin. Any contact would be her decision, and why was that making her throat close up? Violet’s voice lowered to barely more than a whisper. “Please, always, bother me.”

Why did it sound like a plea?

Pearl lowered her head, unable to look at Violet. Suddenly they were too close and she needed to shut it down, down, down.

Again, mercifully, Violet read her fear and leaned back, pulling their hand away. She felt an odd sort of loss. “Anyway,” they said, their voice soft. “Some spotting and light cramping is perfectly normal in early pregnancy. Nothing to worry about, so long as it doesn’t suddenly get worse.”

Pearl felt her whole being unclench. She was _fine_ , not only fine, but _normal_. God, all those worries about losing the baby and her security with it, instantly washed away. “And it has stopped -- I mean it stops and it starts.” The words came out in an excited flurry.

“We call it implantation bleeding in the biz.” Violet smiled and dug back into the pie. “And like I said, perfectly normal, common, lots of pregnant people get it. You’ll be fine.”

Even though they talked with their mouth somewhat full, Pearl didn’t mind. She was busy tucking back into the pie as well. “I’m so relieved, honestly, you just did me a _huge_ favor.”

“Bah,” Violet waved. “I’m doing my job. But I’m happy to do it.”

Pearl felt a smile still on her mouth. When had she last felt this at ease? It was almost magical.

Violet asked her if she had any more questions, and Pearl shook her head. Then, Chachki said, “Well I have a question: how are things at home?”

Pearl stopped chewing, her sense of ease wiped away in an instant like grease on a window. Violet reached out for her, but Pearl was already slipping a hand to close her purse, her body preparing to leave the office.

“I only ask--” Violet interjected, their words falling quickly before Pearl could run out on them. “Because I have intimate ties with several community organizations and I want all my patients to _know_ that those services are out there.”

Pearl still wanted to run, but something stopped her. She stood next to the office chair, hand clutching the fraying upholstery. She stared intently at one of Violet’s framed diplomas, and let the doctor say their piece.

“I remember you mentioning a lack of bonding with your baby last time we met officially,” they said, their tone slower, more secure now that they believed Pearl wasn’t storming out of the office. “How have things progressed with that?”

Pearl tried to level out her breathing, convince herself, like Trixie did in a panic, that there was no danger here. She swallowed weakly and licked her dry lips. “I feel…” her voice came out weak.

Violet leaned back in their chair, opening their body language back up. They folded their hands under their chin and listened intently.

Pearl scanned the pastel colored walls. Diplomas, anatomical posters, a single wood-carved print of a tree in black ink. There were no family photos, nothing asserting the value of staying with your blood no matter what. Somehow, deep down, Pearl took that as a positive, a lack of judgement. She let her thoughts come together. “It’s… different. My… connection to this baby hasn’t changed… much, but… I don’t know.” She found the courage to meet Violet’s gaze again. “I don’t _not_ want to be pregnant anymore, if that makes sense.” She scoffed. “Not picking out names or anything.”

Dr Chachki waited a few seconds to respond, just in case Pearl has anything more to say. When she didn’t, they leaned forward. “I’d say that’s progress, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess.”

A small silence passed. Just as Pearl was about to collect herself and leave for the second time, Violet sprung to their feet and started pulling their long hair down. “What do you say we take a walk?”

Pearl shifted her weight on her aching feet. “Ah…”

“Busses run until what, nine?” Violet checked their watch, their hand full of bobby pins which they stuffed into one of the pockets on their long lab coat.

“Eight-thirty,” Pearl said robotically.

“Exactly. We’ve got an hour to kill. Do you spend much time downtown?” Violet bent over at the waist, swept their dark silky hair over their head, and whipped it back.

“Uh… no, er, no I don’t. Spend much time downtown. I have a… friend. Coworker. She lives… close by. I suppose -- on the other side of the interstate though.”

Violet shrugged off their coat and picked off a few stray hairs that had stuck to the starched collar. “So you’re not familiar with the area at all?” Pearl shook her head, feeling suddenly fearful. She really didn’t know the area -- she should, it was getting dark and she didn’t have Earl to protect her here. Her mind spun a mile a minute.

Meanwhile, Violet was hanging their labcoat on the back of the office door and swinging it wide open. “Oh, there’s a fabulous boba place just down the road -- and do you like ice cream? You’re a pregnant woman of course you like ice cream,” they joked. “You do, don’t you?”

Pearl wasn’t about to lie. And her stomach panged to remind her she hadn’t eaten in five hours, besides the pie. “Ah, yeah I do.”

“Let’s go then,” said Violet. They stopped suddenly. “Unless you’d rather go home, that’s okay too.”

“Oh, well, I…” Pearl felt she should decline, but her hungry tummy said yes. And anyway, she’d just tell Earl her appointment took extra time. He wouldn’t dare ask what went on at her ‘lady doctors’. A faint blush rose to her cheeks. “I’d like that, thank you.”

Violet beamed, shouted a good evening to Mara in the office, and offered Pearl their elbow.

***

Per Pearl’s request, they did ice cream first. She couldn’t help looking at all the tubs of genuine midwestern ice cream whimsically. Violet noticed her eyeing up all the different flavors, and spoke to the greasy teenager at the register. “Can we have one of everything please?”

Pearl looked at Violet like they were at the same time utterly insane, and the best thing that had ever happened on Earth. “Really?” she breathed, awestruck.

Violet smiled and shrugged. “They all look good today. You want anything? My treat.”

Pearl felt convention pull at her once again. “Oh, I can’t let you--”

“I insist,” said Violet, whipping out a purple piece of printed cardstock. “I get a loyalty discount, and credits don’t roll over. It’s the end of the month, you’re honestly doing _me_ a favor.”

Pearl pursed her lips in defeat, but couldn’t stop the child in her (both literally and metaphorically) from adding rainbow sprinkles on their order.

When their order came, Violet suggested a game to play with all the different flavors. Since none of the individual dixie cups came labeled with what flavor they were, the two mixed up all the tester cups and quizzed each other blind.

Pearl closed her eyes and opened her mouth, feeling strange about how _not_ strange this felt. It was like she was with Trixie and Kim. She felt completely comfortable in her own skin around Violet. It seemed barely possible, and possibly dangerous, for her to feel this close to someone so soon. She did remind herself that she and Violet had met three times, and only twice under medical pretenses.

Gently, cold stickiness was placed on her tongue. She swished around and chewed, testing texture. “That’s definitely cinnamon -- nutmeg? No, cinnamon. Aaaaand… gimme some more.” After another morsel and some chewing, Pearl scrunched her face up in concentration.

Violet laughed, prompting Pearl to open her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” They cleared their throat. “Guess.”

Pearl pouted her lips. “Cinnamon and… nuts.”

Violet held up the cup with the half-eaten scoop of ice cream in. “Cashew cinnamon.”

Pearl grunted competitively. “I _so_ got that!”

Violet swept their long hair behind their neck in preparation for their turn at guessing. “I’ll give it to you, because I’m nice like that.”

“Of course you are.” Pearl chuckled and grabbed a cup from  her side of the tray. She went for something orange. Scooping out a spoonful, she looked up to see Violet’s tongue sticking right out. She couldn’t help giggling at the absurd sight of this dark-haired beauty with their eyes closed and pink tongue stuck straight out at her. Something about this tickled her senses, knowing something about it was forbidden. What was she doing? Playing flirtatious games with her doctor?! But there was that face as Violet contemplated the taste, and that mischievous smile when they knew the answer. Pearl managed to shove those worries away in favor of being right here, in this ice cream shop, watching Violet try to guess correctly.

“Tastes tropical. Not much texture to speak of.” Violet cracked their eyes open and pointed. “Mango.”

“Damn it,” laughed Pearl. “That was too easy.”

“Close your eyes. Color’s an important clue.” Violet circled through the rest of the flavors.

Pearl obeyed and smiled placidly waiting for Violet to make a decision. When they asked her to open, she found a disgustingly sweet and chalky taste on her tongue. “Ew!” she squealed, grabbing a napkin to wipe some of the taste off. “Ew ew ew ew ew!” She wagged her tongue in the open to air it out. “Gimme some of that mango -- gotta get that rotten taste off my tongue.”

Violet laughed a little and handed Pearl the cup of mango ice cream, which Pearl shoveled into her mouth desperately trying to coat her taste buds. “Much better.”

Violet cleared their throat. “Do you have a guess?”

Pearl groaned. “That was like… kid’s medicine, or that fluoride crap the dentist puts on your teeth.”

“Well you’re somewhat correct,” said Violet. “I’ll give you half a point. Bubblegum.”

Pearl laughed haughtily. “I haven’t had gum that tasted like that since I was about nine.”

Violet cringed slightly. “Oh now I’m worried you’ll try and get revenge by giving _me_ something gross.”

“We’ll see if I can manage it,” said Pearl, not completely in jest.

When she placed the next tester on Violet’s outstretched tongue, Pearl had the great idea to make them work for it. She dangled the test spoon on top of their tongue, letting it drip slightly until Violet chomped down on the whole bite. Once the taste locked in, Violet slapped both sides of the table, the sound echoing around the mildly populated parlor. Pearl laughed out loud at the eyes that turned to look at them. Old couples on a date. Half a Little League team out for treats.

“Oh I don’t know what that is but it tastes imported and expensive and I _love_ it!”

Pearl almost scooped a taste into her own mouth before remembering what her dietary restrictions were. She gazed mournfully at the Rum Rampage sitting between herself and Violet.

“Seriously what is that?” questioned Violet.

“I’ll give you a hint,” said Pearl. “I’m not allowed to eat this.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “Uncooked salmon? Doesn’t taste like that -- oh wait do you mean alcohol? Is this rum?”

Pearl nodded, and Violet laughed, opening and rolling their eyes. “Okay, you’re gonna love this, you have to try it.”

“If it’s got real rum in it isn’t that dangerous?” She quieted her voice. “For the baby?”

Violet shook their head. “10 grams of rum flavored ice cream is not gonna make your baby deformed. It just isn’t. I’m a doctor. I know these things.” They collected a taster spoonful of the decadent ice cream and held it up for Pearl.

Pearl still hesitated, remembering the book Trixie had gifted her. “I thought no amount of alcohol was safe.”

Violet rolled their eyes. “It’s gotta be super diluted anyway.” When Pearl still wavered, Violet chuckled. “So long as it stays at 10 grams, of which probably less that half a gram is actually alcoholic, you’re more likely to get fetal deformities from car exhaust -- look, just.” They held up their hands. “To keep up my license I need to read a fuckton of literature on all kinds of horrific topics. But whatever, more for me.”

Pearl wanted to please Violet, so badly, but she couldn’t trust that this independent ice cream parlor wasn’t loading its flavors with the genuine articles. Violet couldn’t know how much was in there, and even if it was just a bite she couldn’t take the chance of something happening to the baby.

Violet’s voice brought her back to the present. “It’s a good sign.”

Pearl looked up.

Violet pointed the clean spoon toward the edge of the table, and Pearl’s stomach below that. “You care about the well-being of your child. Even though you say you’re struggling to bond. You do care, and that’s what’s important.”

Pearl felt glowy, and she had that feeling, that she got around Violet. Like she was the only person in the world. Something deep down warned her against this. Feeling like this, letting her guard down, it was bad. It couldn’t bring good things.

**_Heart, stop racing_ **

She continued to push away thoughts, but she was so distracted she did poorly on the rest of the flavors. Salted caramel was weird, and she couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. Rainbow swirl didn’t really taste like much, but there was mint chocolate chip and that made everything okay. Violet guessed nearly all their flavors right, but the competitive part of the game had long since ended.

Time was running short by the time they left the parlor, and Pearl was anxious to get to the bus stop in time. Violet insisted that the last stop on their outing wouldn’t take long. “And worst comes to worst,” added Violet as they entered the tiny tea shop “I’ll just drive you home. It’s not a big deal.”

Walking up to the register shortly before closing, Violet and Pearl were not greeted with the most charming of welcomes. The pasty college kid barely opened her mouth to take an order, and her dark eyes were vacant. Something about her customer service skills unnerved Pearl, and she found herself stressing, thinking this girl was judging her -- did she think Violet was Pearl’s date? She worried her wedding band up and down her ring finger. Something about her chest felt tight and she was reminded of the terrible moment between when she knew Earl’s open hand was coming, and when it hit, the terrible anticipation.

“Right Pearl?”

Her name confused her. It wasn’t being yelled at her, and the voice saying it was much softer, but alert, not in an angry way.

“Pearl?”

Suddenly, the off-work waitress flinched, back in the liberal tea shop. The unapproving service girl was still in front of her, though now she had a single thin eyebrow raised at her. Pearl took in a breath and realized she felt light-headed. What had just happened? Leaning into her field of vision was Violet, an expression of concern wrinkling their forehead.

For Violet, Pearl forced her mouth into a smile. “What did you say?” Her voice came out sounding breathless, panicked. She tried to laugh but it sounded wrong. “Sorry, I was… somewhere else.”

Violet relaxed their brow, which relieved Pearl. She too, felt like it was okay to release some of the tension she’d been holding. After telling the greasy cashier that their order was complete, Violet held out their open palm for Pearl. Suddenly, though, with Earl looming so close in her memory after… whatever that was, it felt wrong to take it. Instead, she smiled with only half her mouth and returned her eyes to the unswept floor. “I’ll follow.”

She watched the pale hand fold back and fall to Violet’s side. She couldn’t look them in their face anymore, the whole feeling changed, and she felt so cold and dirty now. Violet, however, based on their voice, perked up. “Very well. This way.”

The shop was set out like your average fast food joint, all the tables visible from the counter and with very few dividers. At least at the diner, you could get a half-wall and a four-inch screen between you and your neighbor if you wanted. Suddenly Pearl wondered if she could get Violet to drop her off at Trixie’s. She wanted her friend right now. But no, Earl would pitch a fit for sure. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He might not even notice she was gone. She felt a plunge in her chest. _Not taking that chance._

 _God_ , she thought, scoffing at her thoughts. _What has my life come to?_

“Something funny?” asked Violet.

Pearl analyzed the tone. Hopeful? But somewhat fake. She shook her head. “Not really.”

Violet nodded and turned to face the rest of the empty shop. Pearl hazarded a look at their profile. So lovely, very little rough about them. Porcelain. She remembered their hands. Soft. She shook her head. Not my world. Her reflection was worn from work and stress and her brow was permanently creased. She never wore foundation there because all it did was gather in crevices and weep down with sweat whenever a rush hit.

Violet tilted their face ever so slightly her direction, and Pearl looked away. She felt the disappointment wafting off of Violet. She wasn’t being fair to them, they were just being kind, taking her out to appreciate the city, getting ice cream with her. “I’m sorry,” she said, still not looking them in the eye.

“How come?” She sensed Violet press their fingers under their chin, hands joined together like they were praying.

“I just…” She shook her head. “It’s been a long day.”

Violet laughed a surprisingly raw and cynical laugh.

Reflexively, Pearl had to look at them head on just to see what the fuck had happened. She opened her mouth. “Did -- did that come out of you?”

“Yes, it did.” Violet nodded and looked over at Pearl, smiling. Pearl felt the pull to look away, but didn’t quite yet. Violet motioned with one hand, keeping the other curled in a fist under their temple. “Long days. That’s something I _completely_ get.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you would.” Pearl looked down a little, but let her gaze fall back to Violet’s bony knees under their slacks.

“God,” said Violet. “During clinical rotation I hated being on my feet all day. But I mean that’s what a lot of medicine is. And there’s dealing with difficult people and -- do you know I was fully docked points -- almost sent home -- because I essentially told this hysterical woman that her problem wasn’t dire at all.”

Pearl’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

Violet’s eyes lit up, meeting hers and oh, did Pearl want to see Violet’s eyes shine with excitement for hours. “Like, and I said all this, dead-faced, no emotion whatsoever, very matter-of-fact, because I was stating facts. Her needing a knee replacement was not as bad as the kid I saw earlier that day with his femur hanging on by a thread because of a car accident.”

Pearl clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh God!”

Violet turned towards her in their chair and Pearl didn’t pivot away. “Lady’s 57. Lots of people that age need joint replacements, you cannot find a person in a nursing home today without some metal in them, and she’s still freaking the fuck out -- which, I mean, I know in my brain that you shouldn’t compare struggles and I’m very good at _not_ belittling my patients in my own practice, but Pearl, this was a residential rotation and I was gunning for my required sleep break after 10 hours on the clock.”

“Oh my God,” repeated Pearl in amazement.

“Yeah,” said Violet, looking at something behind Pearl. “Anyway. That’s why my private practice has set hours.”

Violet got up when their order was called, and they brought over two to-go cups of what looked like smoothie. Pearl held her cup up to the light. “Looks like it’s congealing.”

“At the bottom?” said Violet. “It’s darker down there ‘cause that’s where the bobas are.”

Tentatively, Pearl took a sip. The tea was bitter, like regular green tea. She’d mostly been drinking black tea, as a substitute for coffee, because that fit into her pregnancy diet. Unimpressed, she looked up at Violet, who seemed to be chewing something already. Violet tilted their head, meeting Pearl’s gaze, just in time to see her eyes go wide. Pearl jumped back from her straw, her face contorting in confusion. She covered her mouth and hummed a high pitched, surprised tone.

Violet chuckled. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Pearl was so ready to spit the whole thing out. It wasn’t that it tasted bad all of a sudden, like when she was eating and then caught a whiff of whatever tray passed by. She’d read in Trixie’s pregnancy book that ginger was supposed to help with the nausea, and now Pearl always made up a batch of ginger cookies to much on through the day.

Violet laughed again. Pearl’s face must have been truly horrific. “You do have to chew them,” they said.

Pearl kept her eyes locked on Violet’s, hoping her feelings of betrayal would signal between them. Her face still screwed up in displeasure, she made one motion to chew the tiny balls in her mouth. And shook her head.

Violet laughed properly now, their eyes crinkling, showing off their whitened, but not perfectly set teeth. “Note taken.” They reached out their hand, a napkin tucked under their thumb.

Pearl grabbed their forearm and curled her face over Violet’s open palm. She pushed the tea and spit-soaked bobas off of her tongue, letting them fall in a glob onto the napkin. She sat back and searched around her mouth with her tongue for any tapioca bits left behind. Her face relaxed a little, but her lips held a determined frown.

Violet was still chuckling in the back of their throat as they tucked the soiled napkin inside a few dry ones. “So it’s a ‘no’ from Pearl on the subject of bubble tea.”

Pearl nodded slowly, swallowing the last of teeny tea pearls. “The tea itself is fine, I think,” she said. “Just -- why’d they have to go ruining it with…?”

Violet smiled, shrugged, and took a long sip from their drink. Pearl shuddered watching a black bubble fly up the thick straw. “That can’t be an American invention.”

Swallowing, Violet shook their head. “Japanese, I think.”

Pearl rolled her eyes and held up her hands. “Figures. The land of bland food and cartoons my coworkers love for some reason.”

Violet rested an elbow on the table. A soft smile played at the corner of their mouth. “Tell me about your coworkers.”

Pearl told them about Trixie, her love of pink and of heavy makeup. Her way with numbers and finances. Of Kim, her ability to put a customer in his place with only a look, and how she can make anything better-looking. Their uniforms, the decades-old booths, the front podium. “She’s so good at fixing things up it’s a miracle her husband is as raggedy as he is!” Violet laughed at Pearl’s joke. Pearl felt a rush to keep talking. “You think I’m funny, you should hear the things that come out of Trixie’s mouth sometimes! You wouldn’t expect her to have such a wicked sense of humor, she’s so petite and girlish.” She took in a breath. “Oh, and Kim!” Violet’s enraptured face kept Pearl going on about her friends and all their finest moments together, making menial daily life at the diner entertaining and worthwhile.

Pearl hadn’t realized the time until the side of a city bus passed by the shop’s window. She bolted upright, her swollen breasts aching from the sudden movement. Pearl pressed a hand against the front of her uniform. Her eyes flickered to the bus stop down the street. “Shit.”

“Oh, Pearl, I’m sorry.” Violet stood, their voice honest. “I should have been keeping better track of the time. That’s my bad -- I could drive you home, if you’re comfortable with that? If not, you can charge your phone in my car -- what model do you have -- doesn’t matter, we have the all-in-one, heh. Nifty white elephant gift.”

Violet’s babbling helped Pearl’s reeling slow down. Her heart hammered in her chest. She was without Earl, in the city, now without transportation. But she wasn’t alone, really. Just not with Earl. _Would you really feel_ safer _with him here?_ Asked a voice in her head. She shoved it away. Violet was still apologetic, their cheeks pink. _Wake up, Pearl._ Her arm moved without telling it to. It grabbed Violet by the elbow. Now she had their attention, their nervous mouth hung open, waiting for her to speak.

 _Shit._ “Uhh…” Pearl managed. “Yes.” _To what?_ _Shit. How did Trixie and Katya speak to bluntly? How did they put it?_ “I…” she tried again. “I would… appreciate you driving me home, yes.”

Violet’s shoulders dropped. They seemed to reset. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Alright.” Pearl didn’t think much of once again taking Violet’s elbow and being led out of the tea shop, back up the street in the darkening city to the parking lot of Dr. Chachki’s office. She still walked with her head on a swivel, accounting for every man on the street, how close they were to her. Which direction they were walking. What colors their clothes were, were they carrying anything, acting suspicious, looking at her.

A couple people did look at Pearl and Violet as they walked by. She realized it must look strange to small-town midwesterners for two women -- no, two… people with long hair walking down the street together. Pearl looked at where her hand nestled by Violet’s hip, above where their hand was stuffed into their pants pocket. She supposed this wasn’t how friends walked together. They were also quite close, her bare arm regularly bumping and brushing against Violet’s sweater sleeve. Guilt clutched at her throat. She was being led by Violet the way she used to be led by Earl. Whenever they were in public now, he usually kept her hand hostage, or otherwise ignored her entirely. God, when did her marriage get to be so… like _this?_

**_Mind, stop running_ **

She’d started to lag behind Violet, to the point she wasn’t following, more like being dragged, up the small hill towards their building. Violet turned around, pulling their hands out of their pockets. They took Pearl’s hand gently. “You okay?”

Pearl felt winded. And hot. She couldn’t answer, her tongue was suddenly dry. She saw Violet look around. They managed to drag her a couple more steps up the hill to a half-wall. Without being told, Pearl sat down. She felt the world wobbling. She grabbed the dry plaster by her sides and dug her nails into it.

Violet was at her side. Their hand ghosting over her lower back. “Try and put your head between your knees.”

Pearl did, and felt her uniform open. Whatever, she didn’t care what strangers she flashed. She was gonna pass out or vomit or both. She opened her mouth and prepared for the bile to crawl up her throat. There was a hand in the middle of her back, rubbing circles. “Deep breath in if you can,” said Violet softly.

Pearl was mad at them. She didn’t want to do what they said. Where had that gotten her? She could at least be dying at home right now.

“In…” cooed Violet, audibly sucking in air themself. Pearl found her body trying to match. Violet stalled. She looked up to make sure they hadn’t forgotten about her. They were still holding in their breath, waiting for her to catch up. “And out…”

Pearl puffed out her breath.

Violet’s hand drew a circle on her back. “In again and this time we’re gonna breathe out for longer.”

Pearl let out a frustrated grunt, but followed Violet’s example. She felt footsteps approach them and tensed. Violet hummed a ‘hi there’ to the person and they kept walking. “And out on the count of five one… two… three… four… and, five.”

Pearl let Violet keep telling her how to breathe, since it’s something her body kind of forgot back there. Her head felt less light, and she felt less like she was going to pass out the more she did the breaths. One round, Violet said when she felt comfortable sitting up she could, and she did a few moments later.

Time passed and Violet didn’t have to count for her any more; they just breathed with her. Pearl felt sweaty, but sane. When she seemed to be over whatever that was, Violet asked her if she felt ready to talk, or at least answer yes/no questions. Pearl nodded.

Violet asked if she commonly experienced symptoms of anxiety. Pearl scoffed. “Everybody has anxiety.” She thought about Trixie, spiraling all weekend, making herself sick with worry. Of course not.

“So you’ve never been diagnosed with any anxiety disorder before?” They kept their voice low, soft. Like they knew Pearl was hearing the rustle of all the trees lining the avenue and the bass from the bar down the road. Pearl swallowed and shook her head.

“Have you never had a panic attack before?” Violet sought out Pearl’s face, their voice taking on a surprised note.

“‘S that what that was?” She remembered Trixie saying ‘I’ve had several panic attacks’ about this or that, and she’d never really thought about it. Her heart hurt for Trixie -- if what had just come over Pearl was a panic attack… poor Trixie, dealing with those _things_ on a regular basis.

Violet rested their elbow on their knee, looking up at Pearl. “Your pulse was up, you were hyperventilating and you’d just found out you missed your bus and would have to ride home with basically a stranger, so,” they said. “Main guess.”

Pearl licked her dry lips. “You’re not a stranger.” She took another deep breath.

Violet smiled a little. “What am I then?”

Pearl sighed. Pursed her lips. “You’re my friend.” After feeling like she was a train headed over a cliff, Pearl suddenly had honest words for Violet. “I like you.” She looked at them. Their face was half-lit by a streetlamp. She wanted to touch their smooth cheek. “I like spending time with you. When I’m not, er, hyperventilating,” she amended.

Violet smiled and swept their hair over their shoulder. Pearl’s eyes darted to their exposed neck. “I don’t mind hanging out with you, even when you are hyperventilating.”

Pearl felt blush creeping up her face and hoped Violet wouldn’t see in the darkness.

Violet breathed in. “Just let me know if you wanna keep heading that way. Or I could always call you a car,” they said, seeming to suddenly remember town cars and cabs existed.

Pearl exhaled, shaking her head. “I think I’m ready.”

***

Violet’s car was new. It still smelled slightly of new car. The interior was leather, and it was clean. Somehow, when Pearl folded herself into the low-to-the-ground vehicle, her body had never felt so heavy. She let her eyes droop closed while a teeny flame of lasting anxiety thrummed in the back of her mind. Violet stepped into the driver’s seat. “Now, I’ve never so much as gotten a parking ticket, so here we go.”

Pearl smiled. Her heart still thudded at the thought that she was in a stranger’s car, and they could be lying about the parking tickets. Even so, who had she known to lie about that sort of stuff? Violet drove smoothly, occasionally checking in with Pearl to make sure she was comfortable -- that the air vents weren’t blowing at her too much, that her earlier panic wasn’t returning… it was an odd feeling.

“So um, if I could have your address,” Violet chuckled uncomfortably. “I could probably get you home easier.”

Pearl shot upright. Of course -- she had to tell Violet where they were going. She rattled off her and Earl’s home address and watched Violet plug it into a GPS car doohickey. The digital road lit up green marking their path. Here she’d been dozing,  getting comfortable, completely forgetting the fact that all this wasn’t hers to enjoy. This wasn’t her car, wasn’t her husband, wasn’t her _life_. And Violet belonged to someone else -- lucky bitch. She curled her fingers around her wedding ring. She wanted to take it off; she started twisting it around, but her swollen knuckles had it stuck in place. She fantasized biting the silver band off with her teeth, spitting out pieces of rent metal.

“Can I ask you something, Pearl?”

She looked over. Violet’s eyes were on the road. Their brown eyes flicked her way for half a second.

“Is that a ‘no’?”

“What? No, I mean --” Pearl facepalmed. “Ask what you like.”

Violet nodded. After a few beats of silence as the city passed by, they said “Do you _want_ to go home?”

Pearl’s eyebrows raised. “What do you mean? Where else would I go?”

“I just mean… fuck.” Violet chewed their lip. “I mean… do you… have what you need, there? Do you… feel safe, at home?”

Pearl looked around, searching the air for an answer that wasn’t the obvious. She felt like she was missing something. “It’s. My home, I mean. My stuff is there…” she shook her head.

Violet sighed. Pearl’s mind wandered through the ways she could have upset them. “I mean it’s not much but it’s all I’ve got if you’d rather leave your car at the corner of the street I could get home fine walking if that’s --”

“No.”

It came out authoritative. Pearl jumped. Her heart picked up the sprinter’s pace it had been at during that fit she’d had on the street.

“Shit,” Violet hissed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad, I’m…”

Pearl felt balanced on the edge of a knife. Her arm was in the air between her face and Violet. She was very aware of their hands on the steering wheel. “What? What did I do to upset you?”

Violet’s shoulders fell. Their knuckles on the wheel relaxed. “Nothing,” they said, their voice reassuring. “I’m not upset, Pearl. I…” they chuckled.

Pearl checked their progress on the green line. Too far to risk jumping out of the car now. They came to a stoplight. Pearl’s hands clutched the hemline of her uniform.

Violet took in a sharp breath. “I am concerned for you and your safety. And your happiness. Because I like you.”

Pearl’s mouth was open. “You… _like_ … me?”

Violet huffed in frustration. “God, that sounds so childish. But fuck it, it’s true. I like you. I like your personality and your… way of looking at things and your laugh and just… everything about you basically and… I want to know you’re okay.”

Pearl laughed once. She couldn’t help it. The way they were speaking it was so… She shook her head. “Doctor Chachki, **you have a wife**.”

They grimaced. “Nevermind that, **you have a husband**.” They bit their lip before saying something else. “ _And_ **I’m your doctor** , which is a major issue.”

They pulled onto one of the side roads leading to Pearl’s neighborhood. She could have tucked and rolled out of the sedan right then, but right now Pearl had nowhere she would rather be. Some feeling, some other person had come over her, and she didn’t really want to take the reins back yet. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was down. She’d gone too long without a trim. The ends were split. Looking up at the sky away from the city lights, she leaned her elbow on the middle compartment between herself and Violet. “ **It’s a bad idea, me and you** , spending more time together.”

Violet exhaled and nodded. “ **I couldn’t agree more.** ”

Pearl jiggled her leg. Violet had just turned down her street. She didn’t have enough time. They were too close. She wasn’t herself right now, wasn’t thinking like herself, wasn’t being who she was supposed to be. Making this kind of mistake would just make things worse.

She leaned her side over the middle of the cab, getting further into Violet’s space. She breathed and hairs around their sideburns fluttered. “But as far as bad ideas go,” she purred. **“It’s a pretty good bad idea,** innit though?”

Their destination registered as “Arrived,” and Violet pulled off onto the side of the road.

“Turn off your lights.”

Violet did. Pearl saw there were no lights on inside -- not even the TV. Earl mustn’t be in the front of the house. He wouldn’t see what she was planning.

“Do you need anything else?” asked Violet.

“Yes.” Pearl pressed three of her fingers into Violet’s cheek, guiding their face. She watched their nose swell with each breath. She could almost feel Violet’s pulse racing as fast as her own. Some magnetism drew their faces ever nearer. She watched Violet’s eyes search for an excuse to say no. But they brought it up in the first place. They wanted this as much as she did.

The kiss was sudden. Pearl grabbed the side of Violet’s neck and Violet’s hand curled around her shoulder. It was deep, and it burned, seared something in Pearl that had been frozen for so long. Violet was the one to pull away, begrudgingly.

Pearl grabbed her purse and hauled herself out of the car, leaving Violet panting in the driver’s seat.

Pearl strutted down the small patch of sidewalk to their front door. She felt strong, and confident. And it was odd, she didn’t remember the last time she felt like this. Well, That Night with the red dress and the beer that got her into this mess in the first place.

Slotting her key into the lock easily, she turned and pushed the front door… and it moved a whole centimeter before sticking. She swung the door closed and tried again. The top of the door rattled and she looked to find the chain locked in place.


End file.
